Freeing Her Soul
by M.E. Johnson-McNeil
Summary: 'Did you miss me? Did you? Why won't you just DIE' I am torn between planning for my wedding to the world's most famous consulting detective and hunting for my sister and her insane husband, Moriarty. But that's what happens when you decide to marry Sherlock Holmes. Your life changes, for better or worse, to chaos. *M for violence, smut, language- sequel to Stealing His Heart*
1. Chapter 1: Flowers at the Funeral

**Chapter 1: Flowers At The Funeral**

 _'Did you miss me? Did you miss me? Did you miss me? Miss me? MISS ME?'_

I jerked upright, gasping for air, looking around. The shivering began immediately and I realized that I was outside, exposed to the elements. A cold rain was blowing in from an open wall, a tarp flapping in the wind. I spotted my sister and Moriarty talking under an umbrella. I feigned being unconscious as I saw them begin to turn towards me.

"Delilah, we know that you're awake. May as well open your eyes and look at what we have in store for you," my sister called and I could hear the heels of her boots clicking against the concrete. "Come on, open your eyes."

Slowly, I opened my eyes, finding her kneeling down in front of me, a vicious smile on her face. I looked away from her, staring out of the open space, my head still reeling from the drugs they'd given me. "Where are we?"

"Look around and you tell us," my sister said. "But first, why don't you look down at yourself?"

I glanced down at myself, feeling my heart stop in my chest before it started pounding away again. "Is that-?"

"PE-4, yes," Moriarty said, staring out across London. "Sherlock has no doubt received my message at this point, although, from what I heard, he isn't allowed in London. Pity that. I can only hope that I managed to panic everyone into letting him come back."

"How…how are you still alive?" I shook my head, trying to get my thoughts straight. "I mean, Sherlock watched you kill yourself. He told me."

Moriarty laughed and the sound grated on my already shredded nerves. "I could say the same thing about Sherlock. Did you really think that I would die so easily? Do you really want to know how I did it?"

"Yes."

He laughed again, pulling my sister in his arms, kissing her passionately. I fought the urge to gag at the sight of them. As he broke away from her, he motioned for me to stand up. I did slowly, finding that I was still dizzy and lightheaded.

"Livvy, do you have the camera ready? I want Sherlock to watch."

"Ready whenever you are my love." The glee in her eyes was sickening and I felt the urge to get sick. "Do you think he's watching?"

"Oh, I think all of London is watching with baited breath. Start recording." I heard the telltale beep of her phone recording and Moriarty took my arm, walking me to the edge of the building. "Sherlock Holmes, tell me, did you miss me?" His phone began to ring Staying Alive and I shuddered. "Oh yes, I can see that you did as you're phoning me right at this very minute. Did you think that I was dead? Did all of you fools think that I would go out so easily with a bullet?" He laughed, staring directly into the camera. "Sherlock, when we first met, I told you what I would do. That I would burn the _heart_ out of you. Now, look what I have at my fingertips."

Olivia swung the camera towards me and I looked away from the camera. Moriarty grabbed me by my hair, forcing me to look at it. "Look and show him. Show him your fear. Show him your panic, your devastation. Show him that you are resigned to the fate of death. You see, Sherlock, you now have a choice. Either choose her or choose the members of Parliament who are now facing death by a mixture of Ebola and bubonic plague. Oh and did I mention that your brother is in that room right now?"

I gulped, feeling myself begin to shake. They didn't. They couldn't have. There was no way, Scotland Yard and MI6 had confiscated all of the biological weaponry, the plans, _everything._ How was this possible? Moriarty answered my question for me.

"Sherlock, did you really think that I would send my wife to Magnussen for no reason? I traded him those tapes in exchange for all of the plans on how to build the biological weapons you took from us. It didn't take long and planting it in Parliament was quite easy to do. There were quite a few disgruntled employees who were more than happy to install it into the vents." I began to cry as I watched him grinning into the camera. "Now, your choice. Do you watch her die and save your brother? Or do you destroy the entirety of the British government to save the woman you love?"

Olivia swung the camera to me. "Plead for your life Del. Make it convincing. I know you can. I've seen you act, lie to everyone that you've ever cared about. Or can you only do that when Sherlock asks you to?"

I tried to speak, but my voice cracked. I cleared my throat, staring directly into the camera. "Sherlock. If you are watching it, you have to go to Parliament. You have to stop them. My life is worth nothing compared to the need for a government. I am no damsel in distress. Do not come and rescue me. Do not. I would…I would rather die than you abandon your brother and your duty to this country."

"Well, not exactly the plea I was expecting, but I can work with it!" Moriarty clapped his hands together with glee and I saw that he was holding something in his left hand. "In fact, I'll give you a fighting chance. In my hand is the dead man's switch to the vest that you're wearing. The only catch is, if I give this to you, you have to walk out onto the end of that beam to try and get out of your vest. Your choice. Take the switch and try to get your way out of this or I let go of it once Olivia and I are on our way out of London to watch the chaos unfold. Which will it be?"

I held out my hand. "Give me the switch."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. Give me. The switch."

Moriarty held it out to me and I felt my heart begin to race in my chest. I placed my thumb on the button over his and he slipped it out. I waited for the big boom, but it never came. Instead, my thumb formed a death grip on the button and my sister pulled her pistol out, pointing it at me.

"Your end of the bargain now. Out onto the beam," she said, waving me out. I looked at the wet steel, wincing. I took one step, feeling the wind tearing at me. "Come on now, we haven't got all day. Things to do, people to murder, governments to topple. Let's go!"

"I am going," I snapped, wincing at the sound of the gunshot pinging off the beam. I nearly let go of the switch. "Jesus fucking Christ."

I got out to the window, doing my best to hold my balance even as the wind ripped at me. My teeth began to chatter, but I stared at Olivia and Moriarty standing in the building. Olivia was still filming with one hand, the gun in the other. Moriarty blew me a kiss.

"I had a lovely time seeing you again Delilah, but we've got to go. Now, why don't you just die?"

They began to walk away and I shouted, "Moriarty! You never told me how you managed to fake your suicide."

He turned back around, giving me his signature twisted grin. "Oh dear, I didn't, did I? Tell you what, you live through this and I'll let you know how I managed it. Ta-ta!"

They walked away and I looked around, trying to avoid looking at the ground. "Okay. Okay okay okay. Let's think. What do we know?"

 _'Well, we're about thirty stories up above London, there's a crowd gathering below, as well as police officers, which means that Sherlock or someone else figured out your location and dispatched police to you. Hopefully he's going to Parliament to rescue them instead of you. You have a vest of PE-4 strapped to your chest and a dead man's switch in your hand. What more do you need?'_

My phone began to ring in my pocket and I reached down, feeling my foot slip. I steadied myself, slowing down, gingerly pulling the phone from my pocket. It was a withheld number, but I knew who was calling. "I'm a little busy."

"Oh I know. I wanted to fill you in on one more little detail I forgot to mention. You have to get that vest off of you before you step off the beam or else my sniper will put a bullet in that foolish little brain of yours. Probably should have mentioned it earlier, but it slipped my mind." I could hear the smile in Moriarty's voice. "Anyway, have a great time trying to solve this problem. May as well make your last phone calls because either you're going to get blown off by the wind or blown up. Good luck!"

The call ended and I cursed, feeling the despair welling up in my chest. How was I going to get out of this? I wasn't Sherlock. I couldn't recall anything I'd ever read about bombs.

 _'But maybe you can. Close your eyes. Go to your Library.'_

"Are you insane?!" I shouted at the voice in my head. "If I do that now I'll fall off!"

 _'In there is all the information you need on how to get out of that vest. You and Sherlock studied bombs together. Don't you remember?'_

I sighed, closing my eyes, trying to get the best balance I could on the beam before going to my library. I had to work fast. I began to search through all the books, tossing them over my shoulder if they weren't what I needed. "Where would it be? Where would it be?"

 _ **"DELILAH! DO NOT MOVE!" Greg shouted at me through a bullhorn. "WE ARE TRYING TO GET IN CONTACT WITH A BOMB SQUAD TO COME AND DISARM THE BOMB!"**_

 __I ignored him, the pile of books behind me growing. My heart began to race and I felt myself stumble back on the beam as the wind blew once more, the rain making it slick under my feet. I vaguely felt the cold settling into my bones, but I ignored it, instead trying to find the book. I was about to give up hope when I found the small gold book with a timer on the front and a hundred wires around it.

"How to Defuse a Bomb. Perfect." I began to flip through the pages. "Alright, so, what wires can I cut?"

I was on the beam again, looking down at the vest. I frowned. Two of the wires that I couldn't cut were across the front. I went back to my library, skimming over the book. I cursed. With the vest and the dead man's switch, I was running a huge risk trying to disarm the bomb, as some of the wires I could need to cut could be on the inside of the vest. So I'd have to worm my way out of the vest without breaking either of the two wires on the front.

I jerked back to the beam, arms wind-milling as I struggled to keep my balance. The crowd below gasped and I managed to catch myself. My breathing quickened and I could feel my lungs tighten up. I took a few slow, deep breaths before reaching for the phone I'd had in my back pocket. I scrolled through the contacts quickly before hitting send.

"Delilah! Don't worry, we're sending someone up to you to-"

"Don't bother," I said, interrupting Greg. "Unfortunately for me, Moriarty wants me very dead. There's a sniper with a shot trained on me should anyone try to help me or should I try to walk off the beam. If you send them up, they may be killed." The silence on the end of the line was less than reassuring. "Get the people below back about a hundred meters. I've got enough explosive on me to blow up an entire city block if I mess this up and I'd rather no one else get killed if I can help it. Can you do that for me?"

"Yeah, I can. But what about you? You can't-"

"I'm going to try. I've lived with Sherlock long enough. Let's see if any of it has rubbed off on me. Greg...if I die-"

"You're not going to!"

"If I do, look out for Sherlock for me. Can you do that?"

The silence on the other end of the phone was deafening. "Fine. But if you make it out of this, you and I need to have a bit of a discussion."

"Alright. Talk to you soon."

I hung up the phone, scrolling through my contacts once again. I landed on the next person on my list before hitting send. It rang once, twice.

"Delilah, I am a bit busy at the moment," Mycroft snapped.

"I know. I realize this. Are they holding you hostage?"

"What do you think?"

"One man at each door, all wired up with explosives and guns pointed at you is my guess."

"You have become my brother's fiancé, haven't you? Yes, they have. And I can see the canisters in the air vents now."

"How many would die if you went to disarm them?"

"Too many. I probably would if I tried. They already told us that the only person allowed to try and stop them is Sherlock." Mycroft sighed. "I had a feeling that he was still alive. When I held him for questioning that one time, he said that he had great things in store for my brother and London. I figured that his insanity got the better of him on that roof."

"So...he even managed to fool you. This is bloody fantastic," I sighed, struggling to keep my balance as the wind blew again. "Do you have any plans?"

"A few. But as I told you last night, it all comes down to Sherlock." Mycroft sighed. "I should have known that this was coming. Your sister and my little brother's arch enemy together."

"They're perfect for each other. Both insane and both hell bent on destroying everything of importance."

Mycroft chuckled. "I can't say that I disagree. I do hope that you get out of that jacket. I feel as if we've much to discuss."

"Oh, we do. Believe me, we do. I hope you make it out of Parliament alive."

"I intend to. Make your other phone calls."

Mycroft hung up the phone and I looked down, happy to see that the crowd below had been pushed back. I looked around, trying to determine where the sniper was. I couldn't see anyone, but my best guess was going to be the skyscraper across the street. I unzipped the front of the vest, fighting the urge to shiver. My fingers were starting to go numb and I knew that I needed to hurry up and get off the beam before I started becoming hypothermic.

My phone began to ring and my heart leapt in my chest as I recognized the number. "Sherlock?"

"Delilah, what in the world are you thinking?" Sherlock snapped. "Telling me to go and get my brother? He can fend for himself. I'm coming to get you."

"No! Go and get your brother! Have you even spoken to Mycroft?"

"I'm sure he and his team are fine."

"They're not. Moriarty placed guards at each door strapped with vests like mine. None of them can do anything and Mycroft can't disarm them without massive casualties. I'll be fine."

Sherlock sighed. "Why are you always so stubborn?"

"Sherlock. If it comes down to me versus the good of the free world, I'd much rather you save the free world. I will get out of this."

"I'm having a friend of mine call you after I hang up. They've dealt with Moriarty on a much more intimate level. If you get a call from a withheld number, answer it."

I sighed. "Are you going to give me his name?"

"Hers. And it's Irene Adler."

The phone cut out and I sighed. I began to edge towards the unfinished building when I heard the sound of metal striking metal, the bullet ricocheting off to God knew where. I shook my head. I was on my own with this; no one could help me, no one could get me out of it.

My finger was growing slick on the switch from the rain and my teeth began to chatter. I was estimating that I only had ten to fifteen minutes before the shakes grew so violent that I wouldn't be able to get out of the vest. My phone began to ring again.

"I am assuming that this is Irene Adler?" I asked as I answered the phone.

"And you would assume right. So, you're Sherlock's new girlfriend hmmm?"

"Aye. That I am. Now the question is, who are you?"

"An old friend of his. I've been informed of your precarious position. Tell me, how did he set it up?"

"Two of the wires that cannot be cut are across the front, I have a dead man's switch in my left hand, and I am fairly certain that some of the wires that I need to cut are on the inside of the vest."

"Oooh. He went to a lot of trouble to rig that then. Little Jimmy wants you dead it seems."

"So I've noticed," I growled through gritted teeth. "Are you going to help me or not?"

"What sort of flowers would you like at your funeral?"

"What?"

"Flowers at your funeral? Sherlock will need to know when he's planning it. Unfortunately, I'm afraid that there's no way for you to get out of that vest without blowing up. I'll let Sherlock know." There was a pause at the end of the line. "I'm sorry I couldn't help you."

The line went dead and in my fit of rage, I threw the phone, watching as it tumbled through the sky to fall to the street below. I began to weep. I was going to die, no matter what I tried to do. It was only a matter of which would be more painless, the fall, the explosion, or the gunshot.

 _'No. No, you are not quitting. Think. Think!'_ The voice in my head shouted. _'Is there anything that can help you, any past conversation, anything? Go back. When was the last time that your sister saw you?'_

"Besides today? The last time would have been at the school after John and Mary were married."

 _'Okay. And what has changed since she saw you?'_

"I...I'm not sure."

 _'What has changed about you since she saw you last? Think!'_

' _You barely eat, you hardly sleep,'_ John said in my mind.

' _Pale skin, dark circles, bloodshot eyes...nearly a stone lost.,'_ Sherlock piped up.

I began to smile, looking down at the vest. "My weight. Yes! When she saw me last, I was nearly a stone heavier. So..that would mean that the vest would be oversized. Which means if I am careful enough, I should be able to wiggle my way out of it."

 _'It's better to try than to give up. What have you really got to lose?'_

"Of course. Of course! Oh thank you Lord! Thank you!" I pulled my right arm in slowly, careful to not tug on any of the wires on the inside of the vest. "But now, the question is, what's going to stop the sniper from taking me out once I get this vest off?"

 _'A distraction,'_ the voice in my head said again. _'You're wearing the perfect one on your chest and you've got the switch to set it off in your hand. What more could you ask for?'_

I nodded, gingerly pulling my left arm through the arm hole of the vest. I hissed as the wires on the front stretched. I was terrified that they were going to break. I let out all the air in my lungs to take pressure off of the wires, knowing that I was in one of the most precarious positions I could be in. I had no balance, no way of steadying myself should the wind blow again. I would only have one chance to get out of it.

I bent over at the waist, letting the vest slide off of me. It began to fall off when it got caught on my hair. I tried to pull, but my hair was very stuck. I tried to see which wire it was. I closed my eyes, letting out a silent prayer as I inched my way back up to the wire.

 _'Please God. Please let this be a good wire.'_

I bit down on it, grinding my teeth back and forth. There was a jolt of electricity and I held my breath, heart roaring in my ears as I waited for the explosion. It never came and I let the vest fall off of me. I caught it in my right hand, hurling it out towards the building where I thought the sniper was perched. I made a leap back to the new building as I let go of the switch.

The heat on my back was excruciating as the vest blew and I went sprawling across the concrete floor. I scrambled to my feet, knowing that if I didn't move, that sniper would get a bead on me again. I could hear the screams of people below and that was when I heard it. The beep of a clock counting down. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the present that Moriarty had left for me.

"God damn it!" I screamed, taking off down the stairs, the image of 1:30 in red numbers imprinted on my mind. "Why? Why can't I catch a single _fucking_ break?"

 _'Why don't you just die?'_ Moriarty laughed in my mind as I leapt over the railing of the stairwell, landing on a wooden platform. I rolled, wincing at the pain in my back. _'Why don't you just die?'_

"Shut up!" I snarled to the empty air, making the next leap.

 _'Come on now, move! You've got roughly forty seconds before the bombs detonate.'_

I looked down to the bottom of what would have become a stairwell at some point. I had to wonder how Olivia and Moriarty had managed to get my unconscious form up to the building. I judged the distance between the platform I was on and the next. It was probably about ten feet. What did I have to lose?

I made the leap and as I began to roll, I heard the wood underneath me crack. I let out a scream as I began to plummet to the concrete floor below. I managed to catch the edge of another platform, clinging to it for dear life.

' _Thirty seconds. Come on now. Move!'_

I hauled myself up, throwing myself through the door and out onto concrete. The world slowed down as I took in the scene. In the back of my mind I could hear the beep of the timer on the bomb.

' _Fifth floor up, twenty-two seconds left on the clock. Building across the street is lower than this, fifteen to twenty foot drop. Would be clear of initial explosion, but shockwave would possibly incapacitate me. Place to hide...small brick wall down to a ledge on the opposite side of the building. Should shield me from the shock wave and the heat. The run and leap would take roughly nine to twelve seconds, giving me eight to eleven seconds to recover and dash to the other side. Go!'_

I was moving on instinct, going out to the edge before pushing off, free falling into empty space. My arms wind-milled, my body bracing itself for impact. I was tucking myself in as my father had taught me all those many years ago, rolling hard as I hit the rooftop. I slammed into a rooftop unit ankle first and I laid down on the ground for a moment, dazed and in excruciating pain.

' _Nine seconds. MOVE YOUR ASS!'_

I sprinted for the opposite side, blocking out the pain in my back and ankle, the tightness in my chest. I could see the timer in my mind. I vaulted myself over the wall, landing on the small ledge, curling myself into a ball.

"One," I muttered under my breath and I heard the sound of multiple explosions, chunks

of concrete and rebar flying in every direction.

I tucked my head down, feeling the heat of the flames pass over me. I counted to ten before peeking my head up and over the edge. There was no half-way finished building anymore. Instead it was a pile of twisted metal and flames. I hoisted myself up over the wall, limping to look at the wreckage. In the distance I could hear the wails of fire and police sirens, as well as a few ambulances. I found the hatch that led down into the building and hobbled my way down the stairs, the residents all pushing and shoving their way out around me.

I got out onto the street, looking to see where Greg might be. I spotted him motioning for people to get back and stay back behind the barricade. I stumbled and staggered, my right leg dragging behind me, my heart thudding in my chest. I was shaking, my face was numb, I could barely breathe, and my back felt as though it was on fire. But I was alive. At least for that moment, I was alive.

I tapped on his shoulder and I watched as he whirled on me, eyes wide. "Holy shit. Delilah...y-you're alive! You made it!"

I nodded weakly, struggling to keep myself on my feet. "Aye...I need an ambulance though."

As those words tumbled from my lips, I felt myself pitching forward into unconsciousness.

"Lila?" I could hear Sherlock's voice, but I found that I had no energy to open my eyes. "Lila, can you hear me?" There was a pause and I heard the tears in his voice. "John, why isn't she waking up? Why won't she wake up?"

"Sherlock, she has been through a terrible ordeal. Second degree burns to her back, a broken ankle, three cracked ribs, mild hypothermia, and an asthma attack. That's not even counting all of the muscles she no doubt pulled as well as the cuts and bruises. Also, they only just removed her intubation tube. Give it time."

I felt someone take my hand. "Lila...if you can hear me, please, open your eyes. I need to know you're okay. Please...I need you to be alright."

I tried to focus my mind on my eyelids, on forcing them open. They felt heavy and I threw all of my willpower at opening them. Slowly they lifted and I winced away from the light. Sherlock was staring at me and I turned my head towards him, grimacing at the pain.

"John. John, she's awake! She's awake! Lila, can you hear me?"

I nodded, checking myself over mentally. My ribs were aching with every breath, my throat felt as if it were on fire, as did my back. I coughed, clenching my fist from the pain. I reached over to the machine by my bed, upping the dose of whatever pain medicine might be in there. I went to shift my legs when I felt a twinge of pain in my right ankle.

"What happened?" I whispered, staring at Sherlock. "Is your brother-?"

"My brother and the members of Parliament are fine. Mary and John managed to disarm Moriarty's security and I disabled the canisters from releasing the vapor into the air. Moriarty and your sister managed to escape and you are in Saint Bartholomew's." Sherlock frowned. "Lestrade phoned me after you collapsed in the street. I arrived as soon as I heard. You've been unconscious for five days."

I nodded. "I feel like it. Hello John." I smiled at the soldier standing at the foot of my bed. "How are you doing today?"

"A lot better than you it would seem. Jesus, Delilah, what were you trying to do, kill yourself?"

I shook my head, clearing my throat. "Could I get some water?"

"I'll go and fetch you some," John said. "I'll fetch your doctor as well. I'm sure that he'd like to know that you're conscious."

I watched John leave the room before turning to look at Sherlock. "Have you figured out how he managed to fake his own death?"

"No. Mycroft and I are both investigating it. Mycroft has been trying to access the tapes from the cameras in that area for that day."

"But?"

Sherlock sighed. "How did you know that there was going to be a but?"

"Lucky guess."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "You don't just guess Lila. What happened on that roof?"

I shrugged. "I don't really remember Sherlock. It's all a blur of adrenaline and explosions."

Sherlock frowned, searching my face. "You're lying."

I sighed. "Sherlock, I've just regained consciousness. Can we do this another time? How's Scarlett?"

"Fine. With Mary. Or Mrs. Hudson. They've been taking turns caring for her until you and I go home."

"And how long will that be?" I croaked, trying to sit myself up in bed but failing. The pain in my back was too much for me.

"Probably another week or so."

"Too long. I need to be out tomorrow."

"Your burns and broken bones won't let you do that I'm afraid," an unfamiliar voice said from the doorway. "I'm Doctor Oswald. I've been your primary doctor since you arrived. How are you feeling? Scale of-"

"A two. Now can I go home?" I said impatiently. "There are a few things I need to take care of."

John handed me a glass of water and I took a sip, feeling tempted to rip the nasal cannula from my nose as it was irritating. "Del, you can't leave just yet. You're still recovering."

"I'm not staying here. There's work to be done. It's only a couple of broken ribs and some burns."

Sherlock shook his head. "It was a bit more than that. Multiple second degree burns to your back, three cracked ribs-"

"A broken ankle and they only just removed the intubation tube. Yes. I heard John say it." I tried to sit up again and the doctor came to stand next to me, putting his hand on my shoulder. I sighed. "Really? You're going to keep me in here?"

"Ms. McKinley, I'm going to insist on keeping you here at least for a couple of days, make sure there's no infection of the burns and that your breathing returns to normal. There can be complications from intubation."

I frowned, looking at John and Sherlock. "I suppose neither of you would be willing to break me out of here?" They both shook their heads. "Fine. I'll stay. But it's only going to be two days."

"It's a deal. Now, would you two mind leaving the room while I examine her?" Dr. Oswald asked and they both began to move when I shook my head.

"No. They stay here."

"Ms. McKinley, I am only doing this for your privacy. I highly doubt-"

"They stay here or I raise a fuss about receiving my discharge papers."

The doctor looked to John and Sherlock. "Is she always this stubborn?"

"Yes," they said in unison and I chuckled.

"Am not."

"Well, I suppose I could use the assistance changing her bandages. If you wouldn't mind that is Dr. Watson?"

"No not at all." He stepped next to the bed. "What do you need me to do?"

"Well, her broken ribs are on the right side, so we need to-" I was already flipping onto my left, taking off the nasal cannula as I did. "Ms. McKinley, I understand you're impatient but-"

"Look, I don't like hospitals. The sooner I am out of here, the happier I'll be. I feel fine. A bit of pain but-" I clamped down on my tongue as someone pulled one of the bandages off my back. "God damn it! You couldn't have given me warning?"

"No," John replied. "Now stop arguing and let the doctor do his job."

"Fine," I grumbled. "I'll let you all do your work. Sherlock?"

"Yes Lila?"

"Could you hold my hand?"

He crossed around the bed, going to sit in the chair next to me, taking my hand. "So."

"So." I squeezed his hand, hissing as they pulled another bandage on. "Who's Irene Adler?"

"An old friend of mine. Did she contact you?"

"Yes. Asked me what kind of flowers she should arrange to have at my funeral. Funny woman. I could tell why she was your friend."

"Did she say anything else?"

"Only that it seemed that our dear Jimmy was definitely out to kill me." My grip on his hand tightened. "Jesus Christ how many more bandages are there?"

"Almost done. Then we'll have to clean them out."

I rolled my eyes. "So, are you going back into exile?"

Sherlock shook his head. "No. Not while Moriarty and Olivia are at large at least. I am under surveillance twenty-four seven however."

"It's to be expected. Your brother has to offer some solution to allowing you to stay here."

"Speaking of my brother, he wanted to stop by when you'd woken and talk to you."

I frowned. "Can he wait until I'm at least able to hobble around on crutches?"

"He...was a bit insistent about seeing you unfortunately."

"You've already contacted him and- ouch! Son of a bitch, what are you two doing back there?!"

"Sorry," Dr. Oswald said, leaning over to look in my face. "One of the bandages was stuck in the burn."

"Are you almost done?"

"That was the last one. I'm going to clean it now and then we'll put some new bandages on it. Your bandaging has to be changed every four to six hours due to weeping, so one of the nurses will be back in to-"

"I'll change them," Sherlock said. "I'll be here when she needs her bandaging changed and I'll do it."

"I'm sorry Mr. Holmes, but you are far from a medical professional."

"Yes, but I know she'd feel more comfortable if I did it. I've been watching you both. I can change them quite easily."

Dr. Oswald sighed. "There's no use in arguing is there?"

"No," Sherlock and I both said, smiling at one another.

"Fine. I'm risking my medical license, but because of what you did for my son a few years back, I will let you change her bandages Mr. Holmes. Now, this is going to sting a little. Dr. Watson, why don't you take the upper back and I'll take the lower?"

I only winced as they began to wipe at the burns. I turned my attention back to Sherlock. "What sort of questions does your brother have?"

"The same ones that I do. How did you figure out how to get out of the vest? How did you escape? What happened before you were brought to the building?"

"I suppose I'll tell both of you when he's in here." I sighed. "Things are going to be different now that Moriarty's back, aren't they?"

"A bit. But we'll get them. You can't doubt that. Lila, you believe me when I say that, right?"

I looked over his shoulder and once again I was in that building, on that beam, the wind tearing at me, the bomb strapped to my chest, a sniper's sites focused on me. I was weeping and weeping, fear overwhelming me, heart racing. I began to fall and my thumb slipped off the dead switch. Then-

"Lila?" I could hear the concern in his voice. "Lila, are you alright?"

"What? Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine." I focused on his face once more, but over his shoulder lingered the image of the building and the bomb. "So, when is Mycroft going to be coming?"

"He should be here as soon as you're bandaged and taken care of."

"Good. May as well bring in Lestrade and Molly. And your friend Irene Adler as well. Oh, and Mary. I'm only telling this story one time." I closed my eyes, trying to shut out everything except for the pain radiating through my back. The pain blocked every other thought in my head out. "Let's get story time over with."

I was sitting up in bed, watching as first Mycroft arrived, then Lestrade and Molly. John came back with a very visibly pregnant Mary. She gave me a concerned look, immediately going to my bedside. I gave her a wan smile.

"How are you feeling?"

"I've had better days. How are you feeling? I was actually going to call you the day Sherlock was leaving. I figured we had a lot to talk about. I owe you an apology."

"Don't. Delilah, if anyone owes anyone an apology, it's me. I should have told you sooner."

I rested one hand on her growing belly, feeling the baby move. "Let's both say we're sorry and move on. After all, there's going to be a little one in the picture soon and I'd like to be around to see them."

"Her."

"Her? You mean you two know what-?" Mary nodded and I felt the tears touch my eyes. "Come here mother to be and give me a hug."

We embraced and I stayed that way for a few moments before pulling back, realizing that she was crying. I laughed, wiping at my own eyes. "Once I'm out of here, want to go and grab lunch?"

"Of course."

"If this loving reunion is over, there's much we have to discuss," Mycroft drawled from his place by the window. "In case all of you have forgotten, Mr. and Mrs. Moriarty are still out and about, no doubt plotting the fall of the free world."

"I believe we're still waiting for-"

"Me," a female voice said. "Sorry, traffic was absolutely brutal."

I looked up to see a stunning brunette standing in the doorway. An awkward silence fell over the room and I glanced at Sherlock. There was a look in his eye, one that I didn't care to see. What was it? Longing? Desire? I ran a hand through my hair, slightly wincing at the twinge in my back and the pain in my ribs.

"You must be Irene Adler," I said, staring at the blue-eyed woman who was smirking at me.

"Yes," she replied, closing the door behind her. "And you must be the dead woman walking. Oh, I can see why Jimmy would want to kill you."

I raised an eyebrow. "I'm assuming that you knew Mr. Moriarty on a more intimate level?"

"I worked for him once upon a time, yes. But now I owe Sherlock for saving me from a beheading. I will say, when he called me the other day, I was quite surprised. Imagine how shocked I was when he told me he was _engaged._ " She smirked, going to lean against the wall. "But, I'm assuming that you've got quite the tale to tell since you've brought all of us together."

"I do. But before I begin, I have to say this. All of us are here for one sole purpose. To bring Moriarty and my sister down and to put an end to this madness. They will not stop until London is brought to its knees and until Sherlock and I are dead. They are both insane, Moriarty obsessed with Sherlock and my sister obsessed with recreating the world." I looked from person to person. "In this room are the six people that Sherlock and I have come to trust to help us. Now I am asking all of you for your aid. While he would not like to admit it, Sherlock and I cannot take them on alone. Its nearly killed us several times. Before I begin to tell my story, I am asking each and every one of you. Are you in or are you out?"

I waited with baited breath, Sherlock taking my hand. "You know that I'm in Lila. Even if it's just the two of us, we'll get them."

John stepped forward. "If you really think that I'm going to let you two go gallivanting off on your own after these psychopaths, then you're mistaken. I'm with you until those two are in prison or dead."

"Which means if John is helping than so am I," Mary answered, placing one hand on her growing belly.

"Lestrade and I are in too," Molly said from my left. "We won't let you do it without us. Right Lestrade?"

"Er, right. Yeah, of course. We've gone this far. And I don't like the idea of them blowing up buildings in my city or killing innocent citizens."

The smile on my face was growing and the grip I had on Sherlock's hand tightened. _'Two more. And those two will be the ones who make or break our case.'_

"I owe Sherlock a debt," Irene said and I felt a stab of jealousy as she and Sherlock looked at each other. "I intend to return the favor. That and Moriarty caused me quite a bit of heartache. Let's get the bastard."

I turned my gaze to Mycroft. "Well? Will the British government side with us?"

"No. The British government will not," I felt my heart sink. "But the older brother will and that's really all you need. Now tell us, what happened up there on that roof?"

I told the entire story, starting from when I got home after being with Sherlock, all the way up until the point I woke up in the hospital. Everyone listened intently and when I finally finished, the room was silent. Mycroft and Sherlock both looked lost in thought and everyone else was glancing at each other, looking nervous.

"They make mistakes. So they're as human as we are," Sherlock murmured.

"Which means that they'll make another mistake," Mycroft said, staring out the window. "The question is, when will they make that mistake and will we be ahead of them when they do?"

I sighed. "I'm not sure. Why don't you all go and discuss a plan of action? Sherlock can fill me in when you're done. Now…now I need to sleep. I'm tired."

"Of course," Mary said. "You need your sleep to recover." She approached the bedside, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "John and I will be by tomorrow. I can't wait to go to lunch with you when you're out."

"Neither can I. I'll see you soon."

Everyone else said their good-byes until the only two people left in the room besides myself were Sherlock and Mycroft. The two brothers were silent, Mycroft staring out the window, Sherlock staring at the ceiling.

"You two have more questions," I said with a sigh, leaning back against the pillows. "Can they wait until tomorrow? I really do need to rest."

"I only have one," Mycroft said, turning to look at me. "When did you become so intelligent? Have you been hiding it all this time?"

Sherlock turned his gaze onto me. "That was my question as well. Since when have you been able to process information so quickly?"

I closed my eyes. "Really? There are two murderous psychopaths out there and you both are questioning how I became smart? I haven't exactly been _dumb_ this entire time."

"You did the same thing that Sherlock and I can do," Mycroft stated. "You've never done that before."

"I was under extreme stress," I answered, looking between the both of them. "I think the adrenaline coursing through my veins helped speed the process up a bit."

"Let's see," Sherlock's voice was soft and his eyes never left my face. "Try to recall anything and everything you can about Irene Adler. I want to see."

"What is there to see? I can't tell you a single thing about the woman."

"Go to your Library and tell me."

I sighed, ignoring the twinge of my ribs. "Not right now Sherlock. I will once we're out of the hospital. I need to sleep."

Mycroft shook his head, a smug grin on his face. "So you are as dumb as I thought you to be. Pity."

My temper flared up and I fixed my gaze on Mycroft. "You were with a woman last night. You've got a bit of her facial powder on the collar of your jacket as well as a smudge of lipstick against your neck right below your earlobe that you must have missed while you were grooming yourself this morning. There's also the faintest trace of perfume on you, somewhat masked by your cologne, but not entirely. You've also been checking your phone every ten minutes, no doubt checking to see if you've missed a message from her, which means that you're probably going to meet her as soon as you're done here at the hospital."

"You've also gotten a haircut recently and you should fire them for nicking you twice on the back of the neck. I noticed it when you went to the window to look out at the streets. You took the window for fear that someone was going to be watching, which in all likelihood someone probably is. Also, your security needs to blend in a bit more. Your two men can't fit into scrubs well. It would be better if they posed as someone visiting someone in the hospital or waiting for someone to get out of surgery. Anything else you'd like to know or may I finally rest?" I gave him what I hoped was a patronizing smile and I delighted in the look of shock on his face.

Sherlock began to laugh and Mycroft sniffed, wiping at the back of his neck self-consciously. "Well, if we are done here, I have matters that I need to attend to."

He swept out of the room, slamming the door behind him and Sherlock began to roar with laughter. I chuckled softly, shaking my head. "You really did rub off on me."

"Oh God, his f-face when you told him…where did _that_ come from?"

"I'm not sure," I answered, rolling onto my left side away from Sherlock. "But I intend to find out."

I hit the button to my pain meds, drifting off into a confused and drug-induced sleep.


	2. Chapter 2: My Friend Irene Adler

***Hello lovelies! Sorry this chapter took me so long. Was having a good fight with my depression, but I've gotten control of it now. I hope you guys are enjoying this so far. It's going to be a bit longer than Stealing His Heart. Hopefully the people who are reading this have already read the first one. If not, then nothing will make sense, so go and read it! It's completed and people have been enjoying it from what I can tell. Anyway, reviews always welcome and I hope you enjoy! Next chapter should be up by Saturday. Have a wonderful day and I'll see you all in the next chapter!* **

**Chapter 2: My Friend Irene Adler**

"Easy now. Go easy on those crutches. It's not a race." Sherlock sounded irritated as he stood behind me. I tried to hobble my way up to our flat.

"Damn it Sherlock, I'm fine. The faster I learn how to get around on these stupid things, the sooner we can start hunting down Moriarty."

"You're not going after him until your ankle and ribs are healed."

I hopped up a couple steps, stopping to catch my breath. I'd learned quickly how to breathe without hurting myself too badly. "Sherlock. I can at least help you research."

"That's what Irene is doing."

"And who exactly is Ms. Irene Adler?"

Sherlock glanced away for a brief moment. "I told you. She's a friend."

"A friend who makes you embarrassed and secretive?"

"Lila, it's not like that!"

I shook my head, starting up the stairs again. "I want to see Scarlett. We'll talk about this later."

"Fine." Sherlock rested a hand on my lower back. "She'll be happy to see you. She's happy to see everyone."

"She's a puppy. That's what they do." I opened the door, hobbling in, finding Mrs. Hudson, Mary, John, Lestrade, and Molly all standing around, a cake on the coffee table.

"WELCOME HOME!" They all shouted and I smiled, leaning on my crutches. "I should have known. Is that why you insisted on taking the long way around Sherlock?"

"Perhaps," he murmured in my ear, helping me to sit in John's chair. "Or perhaps I wanted to spend more time alone with you before having to share."

I looked around at everyone. "Thank you all so much. Mrs. Hudson, where's Scarlett?"

I heard the sound of nails against tile floor and Scarlett came skidding around the corner, Sherlock right behind her. She jumped up on my legs, licking at my hands. I leaned forward, scratching behind her ears.

"That's my good girl," I chuckled softly. "I've missed you so much."

I went to pick her up, but decided against it when my ribs gave a twinge of protest. Mary and Molly were talking with Mrs. Hudson and John was speaking with Lestrade. Sherlock was the only one not speaking to anyone and I could tell that there was something on his mind. I took his hand and he looked at me, startled.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"You're lying to me," I said with a frown. "Why are you lying?"

"Enjoy your party Lila and stop worrying."

I sat back in the chair. "Everyone! May I ask you all a question?"

Everyone in the room froze, turning to look at me. I could see looks of confusion on Molly and Lestrade's face, as well as Mrs. Hudson's. But on Mary and John's, there was a different look, more guarded. I focused my gaze on them.

"What has happened with the case that no one seems to want to tell me about? Don't lie to me." The room was quiet and I looked from person to person. "Come on now. Don't keep me in the dark. I'm injured, but my mind still works. I can't help if I don't know."

"They've begun to kill people," a woman's voice said from the doorway and I grit my teeth as I turned to see Irene Adler in the doorway. Scarlett ran up to her, sniffing at her shoes. "It started with two of the janitors that worked at Parliament, no doubt the ones who helped to install the machinery. Then there was a cab driver, more than likely the one that helped them get out of London unnoticed. And yesterday, they found the body of a pilot dead in Ireland."

"How do any of those deaths link them?" I asked, leaning back in the chair, watching as everyone else found a place to sit except for Irene and Sherlock.

"It wasn't the death itself, but what was spray painted on the front of them." Irene approached me, holding out her phone. I fought the urge to vomit at the sight of the bloody body. On the front was the letter S. "So far, the two janitors have an S and a D, the cab driver has an H on his front and the pilot has an E."

I frowned. "Our names then. That has to be what they're spray painting on the bodies. But why?"

"To make you feel guilty of course. Because you stopped them, these people died. They want you to feel as if it's your fault that these people were murdered." Irene gave me a coy smile, but I could see no warmth in her eyes, only a cold curiosity. "No doubt when you two don't respond or make a move to come after them, they'll begin to strike a bit closer to home."

The blood in my veins froze. "What about my mother? The children? Sherlock, we have to protect Maximus and Madeleine. They won't hesitate to use them. He has used children before."

"Don't worry," Sherlock reassured me and Scarlett trotted up to lick my palm. "I've already made arrangements with Mycroft to keep them well-protected at all times. Now, relax and enjoy your party. Please."

I sighed, but looked at everyone else in the room, forcing a smile. "So, who wants cake?"

We all spent the next two hours talking and chatting, trying to avoid the rather large elephant in the room. I kept catching Irene staring at me and I finally decided that she and I needed to have a chat. I grabbed my crutches, struggling to my feet. Sherlock looked at me curiously from his chair.

"Where are you going?"

"I've got to use the bathroom." I caught Irene's eye from across the room. "If that's alright with you?"

"I'll help you," Sherlock said, beginning to get up, but Irene cleared her throat.

"I've got it Sherlock. You keep the guests entertained. Why don't you discuss possible wedding venues with them while I help Delilah?"

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at the two of us as Irene gripped my elbow. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather I go with you Lila?"

I shook my head, fighting the urge to blush as all the eyes in the room turned to me. "No, it's fine. We'll be fine. Back in two seconds. Go ahead and tell them where we're thinking about having the wedding. Maybe they can help us make a decision."

I began to make my way down the hallway towards the bathroom, Irene's hand never leaving my elbow. I made my way into the bathroom, Irene following behind me. She quietly closed the door and I eased myself down onto the edge of the bathtub, staring up at her.

"So, how do you know Sherlock?" I asked her, trying to keep my voice down.

"I could ask you the same thing it seems. I met Sherlock when he was working on a case. You've read John's blog, correct?"

"A few entries, yes, but not all of them." I set the crutches down next to me. "Let me guess, you were in one of them."

She smiled. "Did you read A Scandal in Belgravia?"

"No, I didn't. Was that yours?"

"Oh yes. You see, our little consulting detective intrigued me with that brain of his. That and Moriarty wanted me to send his regards to Sherlock. Long story short, I was the first woman to catch his interest, at least until you came along." I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. "I'm assuming he didn't tell you anything about me?"

"No. No he did not. So…did you two…?"

She laughed. "No, nothing like that. Although, believe me, I would have loved to get him naked on that desk of his and-"

I shot to my feet, ignoring the pain that electrified my body. "Listen to me very well Ms. Adler. You are here to assist on this case and that's it. If you try to make a single advance on him-"

Her foot was lashing out, catching me off guard and I began to tumble. I caught my balance, moving to strike her with a crutch, but she grabbed it, jerking me forward so that I tumbled into her. She grabbed me by my arms and I glared up at her, knowing that if I tried to fight her off anymore, it would draw the attention of Sherlock.

"You've got quite the fire burning in you, don't you Delilah? Oh yes, I can see it in those brown beauties of yours." Her grin widened as I tried to pull away, attempting to keep weight off of my right ankle. "Now, you listen to me very well Ms. McKinley. I know who you are. I know who your enemies are. And I am not the person that you want to cross, especially not in your condition. You and I are going to leave this bathroom the best of friends and this fight will not come up ever again. Is that understood?"

When I didn't answer, she pressed against my ribcage. I had to clamp down on my tongue to keep from shouting. "Is that understood?"

"Crystal fucking clear." She let me go and I stumbled backwards, going to sit down on the edge of the tub once more, clutching at my aching ribs. "Just know that once this is all over and done with, you and I are going to have quite a few words."

"Oh, I'm expecting it and I'll enjoy our next round." She handed me my crutch and I snatched it away from her, still glaring. "Come now. Best of friends and all that."

I got to my feet, shoving past her on my crutches, making my way slowly down the hall. I settled back into the chair, Irene directly behind me. I could feel Sherlock staring at me and I turned to look at him, giving him a smile. "So? Have we decided on a venue?"

"We were having a debate actually, on whether we should have our wedding at Dulwich College or Pembroke Lodge. I believe that Mary and Lestrade are in favor of Dulwich, Mrs. Hudson likes both venues, and John and Molly like Pembroke. I still like the idea of Morden Hall."

I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. "So we still don't know where we'll have our wedding?"

"What about Horniman Museum and Gardens?" Irene asked and we all turned to look at her curiously. "Well, you both don't have many friends, so a large venue like Dulwich or Morden Hall doesn't make sense. And Sherlock, I know you well enough that being around knowledge and valuable artifacts would make for a much better wedding than, say Pembroke. And it's romantic enough for Delilah to enjoy it as well."

Sherlock was grabbing his laptop and everyone was gathering around his chair, craning their necks as he pulled up images of the venue on his computer. Irene picked up Scarlett, giving me a small smile as she pet the puppy. I rolled my eyes, leaning over to look. She was right. It was gorgeous, intimate, and everything that Sherlock and I both had been looking for in a wedding venue. Sherlock glanced up at me, a grin on his face.

"Well? What do you think?"

"When can we convince your brother to book the venue?"

Everyone in the room clapped with glee and they were all abuzz with excitement about the wedding. I noticed that Irene had slipped out when everyone was distracted. I got to my feet. "Well, its been fun seeing everyone. I have to go to bed as I need to take my pain medicine. Enjoy the cake and I'll see all of you soon enough I'm sure."

"Do you need help?" Mary asked and I shook my head.

"I'll be fine. I've got to get used to these crutches anyway, seeing as my ankle won't heal for another five weeks or so." I patted my leg, watching as Scarlett leapt off the couch, running up to me. "Thank you all again. It's good coming home and knowing I'm loved."

I left the room before waiting for everyone to say good-bye, moving quickly. I'd gotten used to the crutches a lot quicker than I let on, but people seemed insistent on helping me and I didn't want to try arguing with them. It was too tiring. Scarlett followed me into the bedroom and I closed the door, watching as she went to lay down in her bed that Sherlock had no doubt gotten her. I smiled. She was a little angel of a dog and I couldn't wait until she got older so that I could start going on runs with her. Sherlock was already working on simple commands and she thankfully seemed to catch on fairly quickly.

I sat down on the bed, carefully propping my crutches up against the wall. I swung my left leg onto the bed before grabbing my right, swinging it up next to the left. I grabbed one of the pillows from behind me, placing my foot on it before covering myself with the blankets. I glanced at the bottle next to the bed, debating on whether or not I should take the pills. Did I really need the? The throb in my ribs and back said yes. I took one, swallowing it down without water. I rolled over onto my left side, focusing in on the pain in my back. It had been the only way to block out the memories long enough for me to fall asleep.

As I began to dream, I could see those feverish black eyes burned into my brain, his voice whispering in my ear, _'Why don't you just die?'_

* * *

"Lila?" I jerked awake, going to swing before I even thought about who was saying my name. I let out a groan of pain, falling back onto the pillows as Sherlock blocked my swing. "Are you alright?"

"Besides the fact that I think I might have punctured a lung and opened a burn? Perfectly fine," I hissed, trying to focus on breathing through the pain. "Jesus Sherlock, haven't you learned by now to be easy when waking me?"

"Sorry. Did you really puncture your lung?"

I rolled my eyes. "I forget that sometimes you struggle to pick up on sarcasm. No, I didn't really. I'm guessing everyone left?" He nodded. "What're you doing then? Coming to bed?"

He held up a roll of bandaging and some tweezers. "No, not yet. I'm guessing you forgot about your bandages needing to be changed."

I let out another groan, flipping over onto my stomach, careful of my ribs. "I did. How long do we have to do this for?"

"Only another couple of days. The doctor said they were nearly done weeping and that you'll be able to go without bandaging once they've finished." He sat down on the edge of the bed, lifting the hem of my shirt up. "So, what did you and Irene discuss in the bathroom?"

"Nothing really. How I was feeling, how I'd met you. The usual stuff when you first meet someone."

"That was all?" I could hear the doubt in his voice and I sighed.

"Yes, Sherlock. That was all."

"Then why don't I believe you?" He asked as he pulled off one of the bandages. "I heard the banging in there. I don't think anyone else did, but I did."

"I fell down, slipped on the carpet. She caught me before I could do more damage. Sorry, it slipped my mind that I should tell you. But that's really all we discussed Sherlock." I bit down on the pillow as he pulled the second gauze pad off. "Who is she Sherlock?"

"Do you really want to know?"

"This time? Yes. I mean, I could always read John's blog to find out, but I'd rather hear it from you first."

"So you did discuss with her how I knew her."

I cursed myself silently. "Fine. You caught me. Of course I was curious as to how you knew her. She doesn't give out information easily either."

"No, she doesn't. Tell me, what did you observe about her?"

"You mean besides the fact that she seemingly has feelings for my fiance and wanted him naked on his desk?" I growled, trying to hold my rage in check. "Not much."

I could hear the disappointment in Sherlock's voice. "You have to get control of your emotions. They don't help you when you need to learn about someone."

"I seem to recall a time down at the school where you confronted George for flirting with me."

"Yes, but I did it by pointing out facts about him. You could have done the same thing with Irene, like that she has let her personal grooming habits go or that she looks as if she hasn't had a restful night's sleep in ages."

I frowned. "Sherlock, I'm not you. I can't do things like that."

"You did in that building. What did you do then?"

" _I_ didn't do anything. It was all instinct."

Sherlock removed the last bandage before gently wiping at the burns on my back. "You're lying to me. Lila, we can't keep lying to one another about things. You can tell me the truth."

"I had to find the truth out about the murders from everyone else today. Why should I?"

He pressed a kiss to my exposed shoulder. "Because you love me and you know that I can help."

I sighed. "You'll think I'm absolutely insane Sherlock."

"If you're marrying me then yes, I do think that. Let me in Lila. Don't you trust me?"

"I do," I replied, ignoring the pain in my back. "There...well, the best way to explain it is that there's a voice in my head that tells me what to do. It's similar to mine, but cold and calculating. I've never heard until recently. It frightens me."

"It's the voice of logic and reason in your mind," Sherlock said, beginning to re-bandage my wounds. "You've nothing to be afraid of with it. You're not used to it is all."

I kept quiet, waiting for him to finish. "So, I can get rid of it if I want?"

"Get rid of it? Why would you want to do that?" Sherlock asked me incredulously. "That voice is so wonderful and important. It saved you in a bad situation. Why on earth would you want to get rid of it?"

"Because...it doesn't seem right. Not to me. I told you, it frightens me."

"There's no reason to be frightened of logic and reason Lila. I forget that you function more on an emotional level than a logical one. Flying by the seat of your pants so to speak." Sherlock finished the bandaging, tugging the shirt back down. "It's not always a bad thing, you going on a whim, but sometimes you have to think things through. That's what the voice will help you with."

"Isn't that what you do though? Go on a whim? I mean, with how quickly you deduce things, aren't you taking a risk that it may or may not work?"

Sherlock got into bed next to me and I turned my head to look at him. "I have been doing this since I was very young, Delilah. Very rarely do I take risks. What I deduce is what I know and as we've both seen, I know a lot of things. There are only a couple of things I've ever taken a risk on. One of those with befriending John and the other was falling in love with you." He pressed a kiss to my cheek and I smiled. "You need your rest. Mycroft wants to have breakfast with you tomorrow. He's having you picked up bright and early in the morning."

Sherlock began to get out of the bed when I grabbed his hand. "Sherlock?"

"Yes?"

"Stay with me? Please."

"Fine. But only until you fall asleep.'

"That's fine," I murmured, edging my way closer to Sherlock, burying myself in his chest, taking in the heady scent of cigarettes and his cologne.

His arms wrapped around me gently and he held me, pressing kisses to my face and the top of my head. I drifted off once more, safely tucked inside the arms of the one person in the world I knew would keep me safe.

* * *

"I hope you're hungry," Mycroft said as I settled into my chair across from him. "I ordered us both full breakfasts."

"Too hard of a workout this morning?" I asked, going to prop up my crutches against a chair. "Or are we feeling a bit peckish?"

"Both," I watched as Mycroft grimaced when he shifted in his chair. I took a sip of my tea. "I started a new class this morning on my assistant's recommendation. Have you ever tried Zumba before?"

I nearly choked on my tea, my ribs flaring up as I coughed. I set my glass down. "Oh dear Lord, please tell me you're not doing _Zumba."_

"I've taken one class, yes."

I shook my head, chuckling. "You do realize that Zumba is something that typically women do, correct?"

"Like men typically do taekwondo?" Mycroft raised an eyebrow as he looked over the rim of his tea cup at me. "You and I seem to be the exception to the rule."

"Yes, but why not yoga? Or a spin class?"

"My brother isn't the only one who enjoys dancing," he answered, going back to his paper. "Now, there are quite a few things we need to discuss."

"Such as?"

"How long did your doctor say it would take for you to heal?"

"Five more weeks and I'll hopefully have the cast off. Why?"

"And your back and ribs? How long until those are healed?"

I flung my napkin at him, watching as he lowered the paper to glare at me. "Why are you asking me Mike?"

He hissed at the sound of his nickname. "God don't use that name. You're as bad as my mother."

"A reason why, Mycroft, and quickly, or else I will make your place setting and invitation for the wedding say Mike Holmes."

He continued to glare at me before breaking out into a smile. "So you've become much more ruthless since the incident with your sister. Good. Get rid of some of that softness in you."

I sighed, leaning back in my chair. "Mycroft. What do you want? You normally don't invite anyone out to eat unless you want or need something."

"I can't have a wonderful breakfast with my future sister-in-law?"

"You could, but I know that there's always a purpose with you. So, tell me, what's the purpose of breakfast?"

Mycroft set his paper down, going to lean forward. "How would you like to come work for me in MI6? Or I could get you a spot in MI5 if you'd like."

"I already told you last time, I'm working for your brother."

"Can't do as much good with my brother as you could with me. You'd be a wonderful addition to my team Delilah. You've pretty much gotten all of the training we put our new recruits through. I put in the good word and your paperwork and you'd be hired before your wedding." I stared blankly at Mycroft. "Come on, you can't seriously like working at the clinic and with my brother. You have to want to do something more with your life."

The waiter brought out the food, setting it down in front of us. Mycroft began to eat after setting his napkin in his lap, but I stared down at the food, trying to hide my lack of appetite. He glanced up at me.

"Well go on. Eat."

I took a bite of fried egg and some sausage. It tasted alright, but food hadn't been of any interest to me for the past week and a half. I'd had my mind on other things and other needs, like finding my sister and her husband. I shudder as that face appeared in my mind again.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing," I said, taking another bite of egg. "Absolutely nothing."

We ate our breakfast in silence and I mulled over his proposition. I knew that I would be good working with Mycroft, especially with all of the training my father had given me. But did I want to do that to Sherlock? There was no doubt that he would slightly resent me for going to work with his brother. But I had no doubt that I would be doing something to help the greater good of the world. I finished before Mycroft did, pushing the plate away from me, dabbing at my mouth.

"That was delicious. Thank you Mycroft."

He nodded, taking his last few bites before wiping at his own mouth. "You're quite welcome. Have you thought about my offer?"

"I have."

"And?"

"I need more time. Can you give me until the end of the week? There's so much going on and I need time to actually think."

Mycroft was silent before asking me, "Do you need to ask my brother for his permission?"

"I don't ask anyone for their permission," I said through gritted teeth. "I do what I feel is right for myself and the person I love."

"So you need his permission. Very well. I'll give you until Saturday to consider my offer. Now, I know you have a question for me as well."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "No I don't. What are you talking about?"

"Oh. You don't have questions about the woman?"

I froze before slowly setting my cup of tea down. "What woman?"

"Ms. Adler of course."

"Oh. Her."

Mycroft smiled. "Ah, you two have had a discussion already. So, what did she tell you?"

"Not much. She and I established our boundaries when it comes to Sherlock and we've come to an agreement. I don't think there's much more for us to learn about one another."

"You're curious though. I can see it in your eyes. You want to know more."

"If I wanted to know more, I would read John's blog."

Mycroft chuckled. "You could. But you would only just scratch the surface." He reached into his pocket, producing a manila envelope and setting it on the table, pushing it towards me. "Think of this as a bit of incentive to join our ranks. Even if you don't join us, you can keep it. I never did care for the woman much anyway."

I reached out, cursing my hand for trembling. "And you care for me?"

"I can tolerate you. I've seen what you would do for my brother." He took a sip of his tea. "I told you if you managed to wiggle your way out of that vest that you and I would need to talk. Now we've talked."

I tucked the envelope into the waistband of my pants before reaching for my crutches. "Thank you Mycroft. I meant it when I said you were a good big brother."

"I know you did. We'll chat next week about the wedding. I've already booked the venue, but we'll need to discuss your gown, how many people, and the cake."

"Well, Sherlock and I-"

"You two can pick it out, but I am paying for it. Consider it the British government's way of thanking you both for saving Parliament."

I was floored. I swallowed hard before I managed to stammer out, "Th-thank you. Th-that's very...well, erm, it's generous of you all. I don't know...I'm not...thank you."

Mycroft leaned back in his chair as I stood up. "Yes, well, I would like for my little brother's wedding to be a delightful affair, especially since neither I nor my parents thought that we would see the day where Sherlock would marry. Just keep in mind that I would like to be seated at the head table with you all."

"Of course. Will do." I tucked the crutches under my arms, giving Mycroft a small salute. "I will speak with you on Saturday and let you know what I've decided."

"I look forward to it."

I hobbled my way out of the restaurant, finding a black car waiting outside for me. I got in, setting the crutches down next to me. I took the packet out of the waistband of my pants, staring at it.

"Where to miss?"

"Oh. Erm, 221B Baker Street please. Thank you so much."

The driver nodded and I once again turned to look at the envelope. What could be in there that I didn't know already?

* * *

I looked at the documents spread out on the bed, frowning. There were at least ten pairs of ice blue eyes staring up at me. Sherlock was out of the flat. He'd left a note that he'd gone down to the morgue to look at the bodies of the men who'd been killed by Olivia and Moriarty. I'd been studying everything on Irene Adler since I'd gotten home, throwing the ball down the hallway to Scarlett occasionally.

I picked up the one document that I'd been going over time and time again. Weight, height, measurements, occupation, known whereabouts and allies. I'd hissed when I'd read that she worked for Moriarty for a long period of time. I couldn't understand why we were trusting her so completely. For all we knew, she was spying for Moriarty again and using Sherlock's...whatever it was he felt for her against him. Loyalty didn't mean much when it was given by a criminal.

I didn't hear the bedroom door open until it was too late and Sherlock walked in, freezing when he saw the pictures of Irene on the bed. "Ah. I should have known that that was what my brother would give you. And? Did you find anything of interest?"

"She worked for Moriarty," I said, trying to keep my voice calm, but I could hear the bite to it. "What's to say that she isn't still working for him?"

Sherlock crossed to the bed, picking up the picture of her posing for her dominatrix website. "Tell me, what have you found out about her?"

"Nothing I didn't already know."

Sherlock chuckled. "So what did you have to give Mycroft for the information? Money? Intel on your sister? Leaving me alone for the next century?"

"He offered me a job, Sherlock. MI6."

"And? Did you take it?"

"No. Not yet. I wanted to discuss it with you first."

"What is there to discuss? If you want the job, take it."

"Well, I'd be gone a lot and I'd be working for your brother. I wanted to make certain that that wouldn't bother you."

"Why on earth would it bother me?"

"Because I'd be working for your brother."

Sherlock shrugged. "It's your choice, not mine. Now, what did you find out about Irene?"

"Are you really going to let me go and work with your brother? No protest, no anything?"

"What did you find out about Irene Adler. Tell me."

"Seriously Sherlock? I'm trying to have an important discussion with you and you only want to talk about _her?_ "

"Irene. Go."

I let out an angry sigh, rolling my eyes and crossing my arms. "Fine. British female, age between 30 and 35, black hair, blue eyes, measurements are 32-24-34, or so her file says. Highly intelligent, semi-trained in self-defense, no doubt from the many many enemies that she has made by blackmailing people. Devious, cold, calculating. Worked for Moriarty under threat of exposure to her enemies. Her only weaknesses seem to be her sense of self-preservation and her feelings for you."

"Very good. I'm impressed."

"Well, the documents did help. Now, can we get back to discussing my working for your brother?"

"We already have. It's your choice. I won't stand in your way. You do what you think is best for you." He pressed a kiss to my forehead. "I'm going to go back down to the morgue and finish my experiments. If you'd like to come down and join me, feel free. There's money for a cab sitting on the kitchen table."

He began to walk down the hall. "Sherlock?"

"Yes?"

"Do you...do you think you could have Irene come over? I'd like to talk to her."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"I'll have her over in an hour or so."

"I'll put the tea on."

* * *

I sat in the chair, nervously tapping my fingers against the armrest. I'd done my best to set up the living room like an interrogation room, including closing the blinds and turning on all of the lights to focus on the chair I'd managed to move to the center of the room. It had been a painful struggle, but I'd done it. Scarlett was curled up next to me in her bed, looking up at me from time to time. I had her on her leash so that she couldn't run to Irene when she came in.

The door opened and I watched as the woman winced away from the harsh light. "What is this?"

"Sit in the chair and you'll find out."

She squinted in my direction. "I came here to talk, not be interrogated."

"Yes. And we are talking. Now _sit!_ " I barked, watching as she jumped at my words.

"Who are you to boss me around?"

"Someone you don't want as your enemy. There's tea next to your chair. Sit down, have a sip, relax. I'm going to ask you some questions and you're going to talk. It's either that or I'll make you talk."

She laughed, but went to sit in the chair. "How on earth would you make _me_ talk? I'm a dominatrix. Pain is my business."

I raised the gun in my lap, aiming it at her. "Oh, believe me Ms. Adler, I have ways. Now, would you care to answer a few questions for me or will I have to make up a lie as to why your body appeared in the Thames with several bullet holes?"

I watched as her face paled, a sweat breaking out on her brow. "You have my attention."

"Good. First question. Are you still working for Moriarty?"

"No. He was going to have me beheaded. Why would I work for him?"

"Because loyalty for you is only where you can have money and leverage. If Moriarty and my sister offered you money to come back, well, I've no doubt that you would take it."

"That man tried to have me killed! What part of that do you not understand?!"

I rested my finger on the trigger. "I'm sorry, but you'll have to do a bit more convincing than that."

"Delilah, I am not working for that man or your sister. I did before, yes. I was an informant, gathering information and delivering messages. But I do not do it anymore. I owe Sherlock my life." I began to gently squeeze the trigger. "Please! DON'T!"

I pulled the trigger, watching as a small flame appeared at the end. "Did you really believe that I would shoot you?"

I watched as she relaxed immediately before shifting in her chair uncomfortably. "I knew that wasn't a real gun."

"No you didn't," I said calmly, setting it down next to me. "But now I know that you're not lying to me. People tend to tell the truth when they're under stress. And your self-preservation instincts are very strong."

"How did you figure all that out?"

I smiled. "I have my ways. Now, would you like to go down to the morgue and see what Sherlock has found?"

"Certainly. What about the dog?"

"We'll bring her with. She needs a bit of fresh air anyway. Would you mind flagging down the cab? I'll be down in a minute."

Irene took a sip of her tea. "Alright. I'll see you downstairs in a minute."

"Oh, Irene?"

"Yes?"

"Would you mind keeping this between you and I? I'd rather Sherlock not find out."

"What did I tell you in the bathroom yesterday? Best of friends."

She left the room and I stared at the wall before slowly getting to my feet, grabbing my crutches, the leash wrapped around my wrist. "Come on Scarlett. Let's not keep her waiting."

I threw my coat over my shoulders before thumping my way down the stairs and out the door. Irene was already sitting in the cab, but had been kind enough to leave the door open for me. She leaned out to pick up Scarlett and the cabbie began to protest when Irene flashed him a dazzling smile.

"Come now, a fifteen minute ride to Saint Bart's isn't going to hurt anyone. Plus there might be a little something extra in it for you." She gave the man a wink as I slid into the car, pulling the crutches in to rest between us. "Be a good boy."

The man's eyes lit up and he nodded, pulling away from the curb as I closed the door. I took Scarlett from her, holding the wriggling puppy in my arms. "So."

"We're going to look at the bodies, correct?"

"Yes, we are. Look, what happened in the flat-"

"You had to know. Don't feel guilty for it and don't apologize. If you want something you have to take it and tell yourself that it is the best thing to do. You were looking out for you and your fiance. I completely understand that." She turned to give me a small smile. "Thank you for it being a toy."

I nodded. "You're welcome. You and Sherlock...you all-"

"I told you no. He and I shared one intimate moment where we nearly kissed and that was interrupted by Mycroft's men. I was in love with him, yes. Actually, I can't even say that I was in love, merely infatuated and intrigued. Brainy is the new sexy."

"Yes, it is." I glanced out the window, smiling to myself. "It most certainly is. Did Sherlock ever..pursue you after your moment?"

"No, he didn't. I flirted at him, not with him. Although, according to John, he appeared to be quite heartbroken. I think it was more for the fact that I had managed to trick him than anything else. I never saw an ounce of his caring for me, at least not until he saved me from being beheaded. But even then, I believe he saw me as an ally, nothing more." I watched as her hand appeared out of my peripheral to pet Scarlett. "You don't need to worry about my trying to seduce him. I've got my eyes set on someone a bit more...feminine."

"Ah," I murmured. "Your file did say something about you tending to like the fairer sex."

"Is there a problem with that?"

"Not at all," I replied. "To each there own and I wish you luck."

"Thank you." The silence was awkward in the cab and I glanced down at Scarlett, who licked at my face enthusiastically. "So, how did you two meet?"

"Who?"

"You and Sherlock. How did you two meet? He barely told me about you, only that I needed to call you and try to walk you through getting the vest off."

"Oh. You really want to know?" She nodded. "Alright then."

I told her the entire story from beginning to end. I finished it as we limped into the morgue, finding Molly and Sherlock inspecting the bodies. I winced at the corpses, but knew that I would have to look as well. Irene held Scarlett's leash as I made my way to the bodies on the table. Molly and Sherlock both glanced up at me, but only for a moment.

"What do you see?" Sherlock asked and I frowned. "Go on, tell me."

I inspected the first body, frowning. "I don't know."

Sherlock sighed. "Yes you do. _Look."_

I looked again, hearing that little voice in my head begin to speak. "Janitor, age 45-55 judging by the wrinkles on his face and the silver in his hair. Poor hygiene by his teeth and the multiple bug bites on his skin. No doubt living with bedbugs or fleas." I lifted his hand, inspecting the nails and fingers. "His fingers have the faintest scent of furniture polish to them and there are bits of fuzz from a towel underneath of the nails, as well as a small splinter under his ring finger, so he was polishing furniture right before he set up the machinery to pump in the fumes. So the way that Moriarty got to him was money."

"Yes, but how do you know?" Sherlock asked and I could feel the room sliding away, my mind only focused on the man on the table.

"The gold tooth that he has. It's new. There's no tarnish on the gold as there would be if he'd had it in his mouth for years and years. Meaning that he came into money and recently. Also, his toxicology report says that he had cocaine in his system at the time of his death. What janitor can afford a cocaine habit? Not many. So Moriarty knew that his other weakness was drugs. Entice him with money, seal the deal with a bit of cocaine, and that was all it took to get him on his side." I looked closely at his neck. "Ligature marks, so he was strangled. But not by hand, no. Moriarty is too clean for that. The only person he'd get his hands dirty killing is me because it will make Olivia happy. So, what did they do? Forced him to step into a noose. Where was he found hanging?"

Sherlock looked delighted, eyes sparkling. "Oh, very good. Very good! And the next one?"

"No, answer my question first. Where was he found hanging?"

"Your old flat."

I grimaced. "So they are trying to send a message. Well that-"

Sherlock's phone went off and I raised an eyebrow at him as he read the message before handing it to me. Irene stepped beside me, inspecting the body, Scarlett tangling herself around my feet. I read over the message.

 _ **There is a present for you Delilah. Second locker from the bottom, far right. Enjoy! -Livvy**_

I read over the message twice before handing Sherlock's phone back to him. I began to hop my way over to the locker in question when Sherlock grabbed my arm. "Lila, what if it's a trap?"

"If it's a trap then I'll do my best to protect you all. Step out of the room if you feel the need to, but I have to know." I stared up at Sherlock, who looked down at me pleadingly. "I have to Sherlock. Now let me go."

He released my arm and I closed the distance between myself and the locker. I wrapped my fingers around the handle before pulling it open. I could see a pair of pale feet. I pulled the table out, watching as a man's body appeared before me, face covered by a black hood. Cautiously I reached out, tugging at it. I'd barely noticed that Sherlock had come to stand beside me. I felt my world fall away as I revealed my father's face, the look of surprise frozen in his dead eyes. Sherlock caught me, setting me down to sit on the floor as I began to hyperventilate.

"No. No, it can't be. How...how...oh God. Oh God oh God oh God."

"Molly, put him back!" Sherlock barked, kneeling down in front of me. "Delilah, look at me. Look at me!"

I couldn't though. I couldn't hear, I couldn't move, I couldn't see. All that was trapped in my head were those dead blue eyes staring up at me in surprise, the bullet hole planted right between his eyebrows. My entire world was spinning. I let out a cry of pain as someone struck me across the face and I looked up in surprise at Irene kneeling in front of me.

"Focus. They're doing this to get inside your head. Don't let them." I glanced up at where the body had been, finding the door closed, Molly standing beside me, a look of sympathy on her face. "Delilah, listen to me. He is doing this to break you. Look at Sherlock."

I looked up at Sherlock, seeing the concern in his eyes. "That's it. Easy now. Easy Lila. I'm calling John and we'll get you home."

"What about-?"

"Don't worry about it," Irene said sharply. "We will take care of it. Go home."

"I don't want to be alone," I whispered. "Sherlock, come with me."

"John will be there," Sherlock murmured, texting on his phone. "Irene will wait out in the hall with you until John gets here."

Sherlock helped me to my feet and Irene guided me out of the morgue, despite my struggling to get back to my father. "Just one last look. Please."

"No. Let's go. Come on."

She guided me out of the morgue and I stood by the window, staring out at the grey sky. I refused to say anything, Scarlett whining at my feet. I ignored her, continuing to stare out at the people below.

"Who was he?" Irene asked. "You wouldn't get so upset if he wasn't important."

I glanced over at her, watching as she scooped up Scarlett. "He…" my voice cracked. "He was an...an old friend."

She nodded, but I could tell that she didn't believe me. "I understand."

John arrived a half hour later and there was a look of worry on his face. "Delilah, I am so sorry, I tried to get here as fast as I could. Is it really your father?" I fought back the tears before nodding silently. "Oh good Lord. I am so sorry."

Irene handed Scarlett off to John before going to stand in front of me. "I am so sorry. I mean it."

"I...thank you…" I choked out. "I mean it...friend."

John walked beside me as I hobbled my way out, the tears streaming from my eyes, my heart breaking as I left the body of my father in Saint Bartholomew's morgue. They would pay for this. I would make sure of it.


	3. Chapter 3: The Long Road

***Hello lovelies! Sorry for the delay, its been a bit hectic lately and I haven't had much time to write. But I finally finished it, all 12,900 words later. It is a longer chapter, yes, but there was a lot of time to cover for Delilah's recovery. The next chapter will be much more upbeat as we're getting a baby Watson! I'm so excited to write this next chapter. I need a break from the doom and gloom. I hope you all enjoy and let me know what you think about this or any of my other pieces. Have a wonderful day and I will see you all in the next chapter!**

 **Chapter 3: The Long Road**

 _ **Week 3**_

I sat in my chair, staring out the window. Sherlock had gone out for most of the day, going to inspect all of the crime scenes. There had been seven other murders in the past three weeks, all of whom had letters painted on their fronts. I'd known three of them, two that I had worked with when I'd been a paralegal and the other had been my downstairs neighbor that found me the night I'd been shot. My stomach turned at the thought of her death. She'd been such a sweet woman and I owed her my life.

Scarlett jumped up on me and I pet her absent-mindedly. She'd helped me a lot on the days where Sherlock was out and about and I was left at the flat alone. Whenever I'd broken down, Scarlett had been there. I was grateful for her, more than I let on.

I jumped when my phone rang. "This is Delilah."

"Hey Del!"

"Hi Mary. How're you feeling?"

"I'm doing pretty well. Our little one is moving around a lot." There was a pause and I could tell that she wanted to ask something. "Listen, are you doing anything?"

"No, nothing at all. Why do you ask?"

"Well, I'm bored and John's at work. Would you mind if I come over?"

"I don't mind at all. Come over. Are you hungry?"

"A bit," Mary said with a laugh. "I'll be there in about a half hour or so."

She hung up the phone and I sighed, looking down at the phone Sherlock had bought for me the week prior. He'd finally realized that I didn't have one. I dialed the number to order pizza for Mary and then I went back to staring out the window. I knew I should be looking at wedding gowns and caterers, florists and guest lists, but none of it interested me. I wanted to be healed so that I could go and get my sister. That was the only thing that had consumed my mind since the day in the morgue. I'd even turned down Mycroft's offer because of my obsession with putting my sister in prison or in the grave.

I heard the buzzer ring and I was halfway down the stairs to answer the door when Mrs. Hudson got it. "Delilah dear?"

"I'm right here Mrs. Hudson," I said, nudging Scarlett out of the way. "Sorry, it took me a minute to get down the stairs. Ankle was giving me problems. Still not used to wearing this bloody boot."

"Oh, it's quite alright, no problem at all," she chittered as I handed the man the cash. "I was only watching the telly, nothing important."

"Mmm." I took the pizza, closing the door. Mrs. Hudson began to take it from me, but I pulled it closer to me. "I've got it Mrs. Hudson."

"You'll drop it going up the stairs," she said, again trying to take it from me. "Let me help you."

"I've got it."

"Delilah, don't be silly, I'll help you!"

"I said I've got it!" I snapped, watching as she recoiled from me. I winced as I realized what I'd done. "I am so sorry Mrs. Hudson. Its just been absolutely infuriating being unable to do things for myself. I didn't mean to snap at you."

The look of surprise on her face was replaced by an understanding smile and I let out a sigh of relief. "It's fine, I understand. Now," she took the pizza box from me and this time I let her. "Why don't we get you and Scarlett settled in and we'll sit and chat a bit? I feel as if I've rarely spoken to you over the past couple of weeks. What have you and Sherlock been doing?"

"Oh, this and that. We're working on a case and I'm willing myself to heal up so that I can start working again and planning this wedding."

"That's right! Have you and Sherlock had any more thoughts on it since you two picked the venue?"

"We've had a few discussions. I think we're near to finalizing the musicians who will be playing and he said something about rehearsing for our first dance together." I limped over to John's old chair, settling in as Mrs. Hudson set the pizza on the coffee table. "You're more than welcome to some pizza if you'd like. It's cheese. I thought that that would be best for Mary and the baby."

"Oh, Mary's coming over?" She asked as she walked to the kitchen to grab herself a plate.

"Yes indeed she is," Mary said from the doorway and I smiled at the woman. She pressed a kiss to my cheek. "How's the boot treating you? I know John was a bit hesitant to cut you out of your cast and put you in it."

"It's much better. I can at least get around without those damnable crutches." I shuddered, remembering how a week ago I'd nearly broken my neck trying to go down the stairs. Sherlock had barely managed to catch me in time. "How are you feeling?"

"Famished," she answered, grabbing a piece of pizza from the box and taking a large bite. "Mrs. Hudson, I hope you're doing well?"

"Wonderful dear. I decided I would spend some time with Delilah, seeing as Sherlock's out."

Mrs. Hudson bustled back into the living room, handing a plate to Mary before grabbing a piece of pizza for herself. "We were going to discuss wedding gowns."

"We were?" I questioned.

"Oh lovely!" Mary exclaimed, her face lighting up as she sat in Sherlock's chair. "Have you chosen a style yet or are you still combing through the magazines?"

"I...well, I'm not sure," I confessed, petting Scarlett and ignoring the sound of my stomach growling. "I was torn between either a mermaid style gown or a traditional ball gown."

"Oh, mermaid would be a lovely style for you," Mary said and I could see the look of confusion on Mrs. Hudson's face.

"Would you like to see a photo of the style of gown we're talking about Mrs. Hudson?" I asked, reaching for the bridal magazine I kept on the small table next to me.

"Yes please, otherwise I have no idea what you two are talking about."

I flipped through the pages before coming to the section on mermaid style gowns. I handed it wordlessly to Mrs. Hudson before grabbing Scarlett's ball, chucking it down the hallway. The dog scrambled after it, skidding across the tile. I smiled watching her run.

"So, you all have decided the venue. Have you thought of who you'll invite yet?"

I shook my head. "Honestly, I haven't done much thinking about the wedding. I've been a bit busy focusing on my recovery."

"Oh, this one looks lovely Delilah!" Mrs. Hudson showed me a mermaid style gown with what looked to be tiny crystals sewn all across the front into a swirled pattern.

I gave her a smile, not wanting to discourage her. "It looks lovely Mrs. Hudson. I'll have to try one on similar to that when I go gown shopping. Mary, there was something that I wanted to ask you."

"Hmmm? What's that?"

"Will you be my chief bridesmaid?"

The look of shock and surprise on her face was priceless. "Me? _Me?_ "

"Of course you," I said with a chuckle. "Who else would I ask?" She began to cry and I got up from my chair, hobbling over to her to give her a hug. "You are my best friend, Mary. I wouldn't have anyone else up there beside me at the altar."

"I'm just...I didn't...you must think me ridiculous for crying like this."

I laughed. "I don't think you ridiculous, I think you're pregnant and surprised."

Mrs. Hudson set her plate down on the table. "I've forgotten, there's a new show that's coming on. Thank you for the pizza Delilah. Don't be stranger, either one of you!"

"Good-bye Mrs. Hudson," I murmured, watching as the landlady left, closing the door. "She always does know when to give people their privacy."

"Yeah, she always was good at that when John lived here," Mary replied, dabbing at her eyes. "Del, I want to thank you for this. It means the world to me. I know...I know we haven't had the chance to talk about things properly, but-"

I held up my hand, struggling to kneel down in front of her, resting a hand on her belly. I smiled when I felt the baby move. "Mary...you could have killed Sherlock. I know you would have if John hadn't been present. But you didn't and for that I thank you. I'll never truly understand your reasoning as to why you didn't kill him, but I understand why you were after Magnussen. You were protecting yourself and your family." I could see the tears in her eyes as I spoke. "I meant it when I said that you were like the older sister I never had. I also mean it when I say I would not have made it this far if I hadn't found you three. So...will you be my chief bridesmaid?"

"Yes. Yes, of course. Of course." She began to cry again and I pulled her into my arms, rubbing her back. "Thank you. Thank you."

"Hush, Mary. No need to cry."

"I thought you hated me still, but were being kind to me because of Sherlock and John." She sat back in the chair, resting her hand on her stomach, eyes red-rimmed from her tears. "I...I didn't kill him for another reason. Sherlock is good at deducing the obvious, but sometimes there are other factors. Like the fact that I knew it would break you if you lost him. He was wrong when he said that John being implicated in the murder was the only deciding factor in my not killing him. You were too. I didn't want to hurt you."

I was floored by her admission. "Y-you...you thought of-"

"You. Yes. I knew you loved him and I knew that you would be heartbroken if he died."

"I, erm, I can't believe these words are coming out of my mouth, especially in regards to that incident, but...thank you. For not killing him and everything."

Mary let out a watery laugh. "Of course. No problem."

She and I chatted the rest of the day until Sherlock came home. For the first time since December, everything finally felt right with the world.

* * *

"Should you be up and about like this?" Greg asked me.

"It's fine. I need to sight this gun," I replied, heading down the hall to the gun range. "Are you going to keep questioning me or are you going to come shooting?"

"I'm coming. I believe Donovan will be joining us as well."

"Donovan?"

"One of the detectives under me. She has helped with a lot of my cases."

"Why does that name sound familiar?"

"She...well, she's the one that was always calling Sherlock a freak. Before he came back anyway."

"Ah, okay. I know who she is now. Really Greg? You invited her?"

"Well...no. She sort of-"

"Invited myself," a woman said from the doorway to the range, hand extended towards me for a handshake. "Sally Donovan. I-"

"I know who you are. Why are you here?"

"I came down to introduce myself to Sherlock's bride-to-be."

"So you wanted to guarantee your wedding invitation and thought that by introducing yourself to me, you'd win my favor and a spot at our wedding," I replied, watching the shock on her face. "Good try. Tell me, how are those knees of yours doing?"

Greg choked back a laugh as Sally looked at me dumbfounded. "You're as much a freak as Sherlock is."

"Oh, believe me when I say, I'm much worse. I've got a bit of a temper on me. Don't push your luck. You're not getting an invitation." I put the earplugs in before putting on the ear protection that Greg had loaned me, effectively drowning her out.

I stepped into the range, going all the way to the end as I slipped the protective glasses onto my face. Greg followed behind me, taking the lane next to me. He gave me a thumbs up and I produced the gun in my holster. Mary had given me her gun, saying something about her not needing it anymore now that her secret was safe. I'd accepted it and had waited for Sherlock to leave for the day before I'd called Greg, seeing if I could use the range.

I set up my target before going to the control panel, sending it out twenty meters. I quickly took aim, firing off everything that was in the magazine. I ejected the spent magazine, letting it drop to the floor as I slammed a new one in. I took aim and began firing again. I did this two more times before I ran out of bullets. I called back the target, turning to see Greg, Donovan, and a few other officers standing behind me.

I took my ear protection off. "What? Is no one else shooting today?"

"Wanted to watch you, see how you did," Greg replied, stepping beside me and taking the target down. "Bloody hell, remind me not to get on your bad side."

I glanced down at it, frowning. "I've done better. Been a while since I actually had much practice. I-" I saw movement from the corner of my eye and watched as Sherlock stepped in. "I'll talk to you all later. Same time next week?"

I bent down, grabbing my magazines from the floor. I limped over to Sherlock, who had a look of displeasure on his face. "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be at home."

"I was bored. You couldn't expect me to stay cooped up in the flat the entire time, could you? I needed fresh air."

"And instead you're getting the smell of gunpowder. Who's taking care of Scarlett?"

"Mrs. Hudson offered. I told her I needed to get out of the flat and she agreed. Its been almost four weeks Sherlock. I'm going stir-crazy. If I have to stay there one more day-"

"You need to rest your leg!" Sherlock glanced up at the audience watching us. "Oh, what are you all looking at? Never seen an argument before?"

"Not with you angry, fr- Sherlock," Donovan said. "Why don't you all take the domestic somewhere else? Some of us have actual training to do."

We both frowned, but Sherlock took me by my arm and we stepped out of the range. "I've been texting you for the past hour and a half."

"I don't have my phone on me. I left it at the flat. I told you, I needed a break."

"A break from me? From safety? Delilah, your sister and Moriarty are still out there. You need to be more careful!"

I jerked away from him. "Sherlock, I can't be kept cooped up inside because you're afraid I might get hurt. I could get hurt as easily at the flat as I could here. For Christ's sake Sherlock, it's Scotland Yard! I highly doubt my sister and Moriarty are stupid enough to try anything _here._ "

Sherlock sighed and I could tell he was irritated with me. "Come on. Back to the flat. There are a few things we need to talk about."

"I'm not going back to the damn flat! I'm sick of it there!" I shouted before wincing at the pain. "I don't want to be alone there anymore."

"What? What are you talking about?" Sherlock frowned. "Does this have to do with those dreams you've been having?"

"Nightmares. And yes, it does. I can't stay there by myself all the time. It…it's painful."

I could see the pain in his eyes. "I have to work on the case."

"I know. I know you can't babysit me. No one can. But please…next time you go out, let me come with you. I don't want to be alone anymore."

"What do you see in your dreams?"

I looked over his shoulder, seeing the vest, the numbers ticking down, hearing his voice in my ear. I shook myself. "I'm…not ready to talk about it."

"Let me in Delilah."

I shook my head. "Not yet. Soon, but not yet."

Sherlock helped me out to the cab and the ride back was silent. When we got back into the flat, I found two Styrofoam containers sitting on the coffee table, a silver urn sitting beside one of them. I froze in the doorway. "Sherlock…what is that?"

"It's what I was trying to text you about earlier. You have a dinner date."

"Is…is that…Papa?" I crossed to the chair that was beside the other box. "Is that my father in that urn?"

"Molly, Irene, and I chipped in to have him cremated and put into an urn. I thought that you deserved to have him." Sherlock knelt beside me. "I know it hurt you to see him. I wanted you to have a chance to say good-bye."

I looked at Sherlock, lower lip trembling. "Sherlock…you…you all didn't have to."

"We did. Now, have your dinner. I'll be down the hall."

Sherlock got to his feet and left me to sit alone at the table, the urn containing my father's ashes across from me. I stared at it, trying to fight the tears and failing miserably. I reached over, opening his box. "Just like old times, eh? Sorry it couldn't be at the restaurant. It'd probably be awkward for Ted to have me sitting in a corner crying with an urn."

I opened my box, eyes never leaving the urn. I didn't know what to say or do. I thought that I'd scattered my father's ashes all those many years ago. I thought that I'd dealt with the pain of losing him. But ever since I'd seen his body in the morgue, since I'd had my heart ripped back open and smashed on the ground, I hadn't known how to feel, how to react. I'd been so focused on getting my sister that I hadn't given myself the time to feel anything.

Now it all came to me and I began to weep openly, biting down on my knuckle to keep from sobbing and attracting Sherlock's attention. "Papa, I miss you. I miss you so much. It's not fair. It's not. Losing you destroyed me and it continues to do so. God, I want to kill her, to destroy her and everything that she loves. It's eating me from the inside out and I feel like I'm losing myself, becoming consumed with my hatred. I can't eat, I can barely sleep. It's so hard to focus on anything except getting her and her husband for everything they've ever done."

I got to my feet, picking up his urn, pulling it to my chest. "I want one more hug, one more kiss on the forehead, one more off-key song sung before I go to sleep. I want you here to wipe away my tears, to tell me how proud you are of me, how much you love me. I want you here…I want you here to walk me down the aisle and give me away to the second-best man I've ever known in my life. And because of her, I can't have that. I love you Papa. I love you so much."

I sunk down on the couch, holding it close to me, resting my forehead against the cold metal. "I' so sorry. So sorry. I failed you…but I'll make it right. I promise."

When I woke up, I found myself in bed, Sherlock by the window, playing a familiar lullaby. I sat up in bed, staring at him before I began to sing softly. _"Over in Killarney, many years ago...my father sang a song to me, in tones so sweet and low…just a simple little ditty…in his good old Irish way…and I'd give the world if he could sing…that song to me this day."_ Sherlock stopped playing and I could see his reflection in the window. "Where did you learn that song?"

"I heard you singing it one day under your breath when you were doing dishes. I figured that it was important to you."

I nodded slowly, taking a deep breath to keep the tears at bay. "Aye. It is. My father sang it to me before bed, as his mother did for him, and her mother did for her. A family tradition of sorts." I looked around, searching for the urn. "Where did you put him?"

"On the mantel in the living room," Sherlock answered, still staring out of the window. "Lila...will you tell me what's wrong?"

"What do you mean?"

"You've barely eaten since you were released from the hospital. You didn't even touch the fish and chips I-"

"Sherlock, why would I eat when I was upset?"

"Would you let me finish?"

I sighed. "Fine."

"You have lost almost two stone. Your eyes have enormous shadows under them. You cry out in your sleep on the rare occasion you get any. You jump at every noise and go for the place where your gun used to be whenever you hear something strange. Your smile dies when you're not around people and I can see the rage and murder in your face when you think that no one is looking. You don't sing anymore, you don't laugh anymore." He crossed to me, taking my hand. "I feel as if I am losing you to something that I can't see. Please...talk to me."

I pulled away from him. "There's nothing to talk about. I'm fine."

Sherlock's eyes grew cold and distant. "I see. Well, I'm going to follow-up on a sighting. You stay here with Scarlett and rest. I'll be home in a few hours."

He left the room and I looked down at Scarlett sitting patiently by the bed. I rested my head on the pillow, closing my eyes. "I'm sorry Sherlock. I'm not ready. Not yet."

* * *

I was startled awake by the sound of my phone buzzing on the nightstand. Sleepily, I reached for it, glaring against the bright light.

 _ **Did you like the present I sent you? -Livvy**_

 _ **No, I didn't. Where the hell did you get that from? -DM**_

 _ **Kept it special for you. I know how much you loved our father. -Livvy**_

 _ **You're a sick and twisted soul, you know that? -DM**_

 _ **You love me. Admit it. It's why you didn't kill me on the bridge that night. It's why you still talk to me when I text or call you. If you didn't love me then you wouldn't reply. -Livvy**_

 _ **I only reply to you because I want you dead you fucking bitch. -DM**_

 _ **Oooooh, such hostility! And coming from YOU which is quite the surprise. What's the matter, seeing Daddy's corpse hurt too much for you? Or are you still upset about the warehouse? You have to understand, (1/2)**_

 _ **I had to keep my boys entertained or else they would grow bored and kill each other. You were only their toy for a little while. I knew that your precious Sherlock would come to rescue you at some point. -Livvy (2/2)**_

 _ **Fuck you. -DM**_

 _ **Not with a ten foot pole. Come on, you're telling me you didn't like the present? -Livvy**_

 _ **Not even a little bit? -Livvy**_

 _ **I know you're there, it's showing me that you're reading the messages. -Livvy**_

 _ **Fine. Ignore me. But don't say I didn't try to warn you. Jim and I are only getting started with you and Sherlock. By the end of it, you'll be begging for us to end it. Talk to you soon dear sister. Love you! -Livvy**_

I slammed the phone down onto the nightstand. Scarlett jumped, looking up at me fearfully from her bed. I flung the blankets back, going down the dark hall. I wouldn't be able to sleep, not now.

I opened my laptop, entering the password. I began to browse the internet, searching for any sign of my sister's whereabouts. She was going to pay, even if it killed me.

 _ **Week 4**_

"God, I _hate_ this stupid thing," I hissed, scratching around the rim of the boot. "It's so itchy!"

"You heard what the doctor said. One more week and you should be good to go without it, so long as you take it easy." Sherlock was looking over the list that I'd compiled of possible guests. "You're missing a few people on here."

"Like who?"

"Well, Irene for one. And Donovan."

"No and no."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I'm not asking you. I'm telling you. Put them on my side if you must, but they are at least getting invitations."

"Fine. But that means that George and his girlfriend are getting invitations as well. Oh, and you need to invite Archie and his mother, as well as Lucas and his mother."

"Who?"

I sighed. "The ring bearer from John and Mary's wedding and the little boy that I give private lessons to now."

"Oh. Yes. Of course. We also need to invite Anderson."

"Who?"

"Gentleman that worked with Lestrade before I met you. Went a bit...insane after I faked my death."

"How did you do that if you don't mind my asking?"

Sherlock glanced up at me before returning to the invitation list. "Are you asking because you really care to know or are you asking because you want to see if you can figure out how Moriarty did it?"

I looked back down at the tentative guest list. "Was there anyone else that you wanted to invite?"

"Lila, stop avoiding the question."

"I'm not avoiding anything!" I snapped. "Forget that I ever asked the stupid question in the first place. Let's finish this guest list and be done with it so that we can send out the invitations."

Sherlock and I sat quietly at the kitchen table. I watched as he crossed names and scribbled in others. I was making a plan for the seating chart, writing down the names of people I knew were definitely coming on post-it notes so that I wouldn't have to keep re-drawing the plan.

"Hello Sherlock, Delilah. Going over the guest list like I asked?"

I glanced up at Mycroft standing in the doorway. "What does it look like we're doing? Why are you here? Shouldn't you be rescuing some agent that got themselves lost in Siberia?"

Sherlock snickered and Mycroft rolled his eyes. "It was Mongolia. We were worried that they were going to find themselves in Siberia if they weren't careful. Do you not pay any attention when I call you two?"

"No," Sherlock and I answered simultaneously and inwardly I giggled with glee as Mycroft frowned.

"God, you two together is a combination I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy."

"You should be excited for after the wedding Mycroft," I said with a smile. "You'll not only have a little brother, but also a little sister."

"May the Lord save us all from that horrible fate."

I only shook my head, going back to the seating chart for the reception. "So, what brings you here?"

"There has been another missing agent reported," Sherlock answered, not looking up from the guest list. "Mycroft, would you rather sit with our parents or with Molly?"

"Neither. Sherlock, I came to give you a case to work on."

"Missing agents don't intrigue me, Mycroft. Probably ran off because of the pressure or found somewhere else that would pay them a lot more for their...services."

I looked up at Mycroft, seeing the disdain in his eyes. "Who was it?"

"They were an undercover for MI5, working to track down child sex trafficking rings here in London. They were posing as a prostitute and had managed to get deep in the ranks. They never checked in two days ago and we've been unable to find any traces of her since then."

I frowned, glancing over at Sherlock, who seemed engrossed by the list. "Sherlock, maybe we should take a look into this."

"I'm busy."

"But Sherlock, what if-"

Sherlock looked up at me, blatantly annoyed. "I am trying to plan a wedding, _my_ wedding, and figure out how to capture Moriarty and your sister. You want to add another case to the mix, especially one so simple? I'm not interested, Mycroft. If you'd like, you can join us in planning the guest list or you can go and find your missing person yourself. Now, Molly or our parents?"

Mycroft sighed before taking a seat at the table. Scarlett trotted up, sniffing at the leg of his trouser. "Molly. Is this your newest addition?"

"Yes," I said with a smile, patting my leg. "Her name is Scarlett. She's our puppy. She's, what, nearly three months old now?"

"Three months, one week, and four days," Sherlock murmured, scribbling out someone's name. "She was the last one in the litter. The runt, so no one wanted her."

I patted her head, leaning down to grab the ball off of the floor. I chucked it into the living room and she went scrambling after it. "As soon as I get this damn boot off of my foot, I'm taking her for a long walk. The ball chasing isn't curbing her energy as much as I'd like it to."

Scarlett brought the ball back to Mycroft, who was flipping through my bridal gown magazine. He wrinkled his nose in disgust at the slobbered covered ball. She sat down next to him, tail wagging back and forth.

"She wants you to throw it Mycroft," I encouraged.

"I know what she wants me to do. I don't want to do it. It's covered in her saliva."

"That's what tends to get on a ball when dogs fetch them. Throw the ball Mycroft. It'll make her happy."

He stared at me in disapproval before bending over, picking up the ball gingerly. He threw it down the hall towards our bedroom and Scarlett went skittering after it. "What type of wedding gown were you thinking about getting Delilah?"

"I'm not sure." I looked out the window, trying to hide my impatience. I was getting tired of people asking me that one question. "I was thinking a mermaid style gown."

Mycroft snorted. "You can't be serious. You have to have curves to pull off a gown like that. And seeing as you've dropped so much weight, I doubt that you could."

I turned to glare at him. "My weight is my business, thank you very much."

"It becomes _our_ business when you are trying to choose a wedding gown that doesn't suite your frame. At least not the frame you have right now." Mycroft sniffed, flipping through the pages. "Something strapless to show off your arms and frilly on the bottom. We might be able to get away with a dress that has a very exposed back, but-"

"No. No exposed backs," I said through gritted teeth. "I'm not showing off my back. I need something that covers most of my skin."

Mycroft scoffed at my suggestion. "Delilah, this is the twenty-first century. Let's get a bit with the times here. A little bit of back showing isn't going to hurt anyone."

I whirled on him. "I told you. There will be cloth covering my back."

"What on earth _for?_ Don't tell me that you're self-conscious."

Sherlock looked at his brother. "Enough Mycroft. Let her pick her own gown."

"I'm merely suggesting that showing some skin on her back is an elegant way of showing skin instead of wearing something with a plunging neckline or-"

My temper got the best of me and I turned my back to Mycroft, tugging up my oversized jumper to reveal the network of scars and newly formed skin. I began to shake as the blood roared in my ears. I dropped the fabric, letting it fall across my mutilated back to hide it once more. I got up, heading for the door.

"Where are you going?" Sherlock asked.

"Out."

"Where to?"

"Out!" I shouted, limping down the stairs and out of the flat.

After about two blocks I regretted not grabbing a coat, as it was raining fairly heavily outside. After four, I was shivering violently. But I was nearly to my destination. I couldn't stop until I arrived. I knew that Mycroft had only meant well by his suggestions, but they had upset me. I was getting very tired of people telling me what I should and should not do. Sherlock was the biggest offender. He'd rejected every idea of my going with him to look at the crime scenes or down to the morgue.

Since he wanted to keep me out of the loop so badly, I would go on my own investigation. I arrived at the building, looking up at it with a shaky breath. I hadn't returned since I'd discovered the truth about the group my father had been working with. It had been too risky. Now here I stood, going to investigate the murder of my old neighbor, a woman I had considered a friend.

I went to the panel, examining the keypad. What had the old code been for people who'd forgotten their passcode? Ah yes.

"Zero-seven-one-nine." I hit the buttons before pressing enter, watching as the light lit up green and the doors swung open. "Perfect."

I took the stairs despite my aching ankle, not wanting to be spotted by anyone who lived in the building. Also, I knew the landlord hadn't bothered installing cameras in the stairwell, even though one former tenant had been shot and another murdered. I shook my head, reminding myself that I hadn't come to criticize the landlord, but instead investigate a woman's murder and see if I could get any hints as to where Moriarty and my sister could be.

I saw the door covered in police crime tape. I looked around quickly before picking the lock with ease, opening the door and stepping through the gap in the tape. I glanced around the gloomy flat, frowning. Nothing looked out of the ordinary from when I used to visit her. Then I stepped into what was once her sitting room, noting the blood stain on the cream colored carpet. I knelt down beside it, staring at the rust colored spot.

Sherlock had told me nothing about how she'd been killed. He'd decided to keep that secret from me. But I had an idea of how it had been done. I looked around the flat, noting that the closet door by the front door was open a crack. Now, had they investigated in there or had someone stepped out of it?

"No…the detectives wouldn't have looked at that. They would have been concerned with what was right in front of them. Let's see…" I went to the closet, opening the door. "If I were going to kill her, when would I have done it?"

I stepped inside, staring out into the living room with the door opened a crack. "Her back had to have been to them. So, she was watching television. Later on in the evening then because she had the same job for nearly twenty years and she never got home earlier than six thirty. So she sat down to watch her programs. How long had they been waiting though is the question?"

I frowned. I couldn't remember if it had been raining or not that day. I tried to picture it in my mind, but my ankle was throbbing as I crouched down in the closet. I ignored it, pulling my gun from its holster, holding it down in front of me.

"She had to have been shot. That's the only thing that makes sense. Moriarty and my sister wouldn't have gotten their hands dirty with the likes of her. They only want to make a statement; they're not killing for pleasure." I pushed the door open slowly with my right hand. "So…they waited for her to get home, hoping that she wouldn't go to the closet. No. She would have. So how did they-" I felt a draft of air to my right and I pushed the coats away, revealing a haphazardly covered hole leading to the maintenance room next to her apartment. "That's how. They could have cut the hole when she wasn't home and waited in the next room to arrive. No doubt they paid the maintenance man for it."

"Having fun investigating?" Sherlock drawled behind me and I jumped, cracking my head on the entrance to the hole.

"Fucking hell Sherlock!" I said, backing my way out, using the wall to help myself to my feet. "A little warning would have been nice. I could have shot you."

"But you didn't. What are you doing here?"

"Investigating. I wanted to check out at least one of the crime scenes myself."

"You're soaking wet. You should be in bed resting."

"Not with your brother in the flat I'm not."

"Mycroft…was called away."

"By what? I thought he was going to be spending most of the day going over wedding plans with us?" I saw the look on Sherlock's face and my brow furrowed together. "What's going on? What's wrong?"

"It's probably nothing," Sherlock muttered to himself, scanning the room. "So, what have you found?"

"Only a few basic things. The hole, how they killed her. Nothing major."

"Give me your theory."

I rolled my eyes. "I already gave you my theory. Must we do this every time I think of how something happened or someone is?"

"In Magnussen's, you managed to see something that I didn't. But because you were too slow, it was too late. We're working on your speed now. Focus and walk me through what you think happened to Nancy."

I closed my eyes, kneeling down in the closet. "Okay. Alright then. I'm my sister because I highly doubt that Moriarty would have killed her. I've just heard her come home from work. Nancy has a ritual that she goes through every night. Put the kettle on, reheat whatever she made on Sunday, prepare her tea, check her email one last time, and then settle into that chair over there in front of the television." I opened my eyes, seeing the darkened entrance hall looking into the flat. "They would have known that. And they waited until the kettle was screaming so that their gunshots would be masked. Silencers are wonderful inventions, but the gun will still make noise."

I began to go through the motions of what happened, creeping out from the hiding place, going down the hallway. "They would have seen her in the chair. Judging by the lack of blood on said chair and the way the tape on the floor is set up, she fell on her back. Meaning that she was facing them when they shot her. So she either knew them…or _thought_ that she knew them."

I could see it now. I hadn't spoken to Nancy in years. She may have forgotten how exactly my voice had sounded and my father had once joked how it was hard to tell us apart sometimes if he was on the phone. If Olivia had played her cards right…

"Olivia announced herself. Except she pretended to be me. She told Nancy that she'd dropped in to say hello and that she'd found the front door open so she was worried. When Nancy got up from the chair to greet her, thinking that it was me, she found my sister with a gun pointed at her. Tell me…where was the wound?"

"Her abdomen."

I lifted up the front of my shirt, revealing my own bullet wound scar. "So, right about here?"

"Exactly there."

I frowned, letting it drop as I began to hobble around the flat. "But why? Why go to the trouble of shooting her right there? Why bother at all? Unless they were trying to give me a message. A warning. Anyone who helps me…will wind up dead. That has to be it." I turned to Sherlock, feeling myself begin to tremble with excitement. "That's it, isn't it? The people that they've killed that you know, did they do it in ways similar to cases you've been on? Any sort of link to you personally?"

Sherlock only stared at me and I rolled my eyes, going to the window, looking down at the rainy streets below. "There has to be a link. This is a warning Sherlock, only one that you and I can see. They're trying to tell us that anyone who helps will be killed. Can't you see Sherlock? Don't you realize it? We have to find them! We have to!"

Sherlock grabbed me by my upper arms, turning me to look up at him. "I will find them. You need to heal."

I stepped away from him angrily. "You can't keep mollycoddling me Sherlock! I'm not a child. And if anyone is going to have a good chance at predicting my sister, it's me." His gaze didn't waver and I shook my head in disbelief. "You're really not going to let me help you, are you?"

"Not while you're injured, no."

I fought to control my temper, but I'd had a very difficult time doing that lately. "Why…must you always…STOP ME!"

I knocked a lamp from one of the small tables, watching as it shattered on the floor. Sherlock only continued to look on and it infuriated me even more. "Why are you doing this? Why aren't you letting me help? Why are you keeping me away from this case?"

Sherlock said nothing and I began to approach him when he stepped past me, going to the bookcase behind me. "Damn it Sherlock, answer me when I'm talking to you!"

He stepped onto the second shelf, reaching up to the top to pull down a teddy bear. He opened the back of it, pulling out a small camera. "They've been watching us this entire time. How did I not see this before?"

I covered my mouth with my hand as I stared at the camera. "They knew we'd come. That's how they've known that we're still interested in pursuing them. That's why they haven't stopped with the killings yet. We haven't found all of the clues they're leaving behind for us to find."

"If we go back to the other crime scenes, we could find other cameras. If we can pull the footage off of them, maybe we can figure out where they're staying." Sherlock was growing more excited with every word. "I have to let Lestrade know. And then you are going home and resting."

"I'm coming with you."

"You've done enough today. You're going home to rest."

"No!"

"Lila, I am not having this argument with you. Either you go home with John when he gets here or I am having Greg escort you home in a pair of _handcuffs_ when he gets here."

"Fine. Don't take my help then. I'll be out in the hall waiting for John."

"Good. He'll be here in five minutes. I told him that there was another shooting."

"What?! The poor man is going to be scared half to death."

"Exactly the point. It'll make him hurry."

"And what's going to stop him from ringing an ambulance on his way over?"

"Really? Do you think that I wouldn't cover that part of the plan?" Sherlock inspected the camera. "Go out in the hall and wait. I need to go to my Mind Palace."

I left the room, still fuming at what had happened. I stood out in the hall, closing my eyes as I leaned up against the wall, focusing on my breathing. I couldn't let these things get to me like they were. But it seemed like the longer that my sister and Moriarty were free, the quicker I was to anger and the worse the nightmares became. I heard a familiar voice shouting up the stairwell.

"Sherlock! Delilah! Where are you two?"

I walked to the stairwell door, opening it to see John standing there, a look of sheer panic on his face. He grabbed me by the shoulders, spinning me around. I stumbled, struggling to keep my balance.

"Sherlock said you were shot. Where were you shot at? You should be laying down!"

"John, I'm fine. Sherlock lied to get you here faster." I watched as relief spread across his face. He doubled over, hands on his knees. "Are you alright John?"

"Fine. Perfectly…perfectly fine. Sherlock won't be in about ten minutes after I've got my breath back. You're really not injured?"

"As healthy as I can be given my current situation," I answered. "I promise you, besides the broken ankle and ribs, I'm fine."

"What are you doing here Del?"

I shrugged. "I was bored, wanted to investigate on my own. I can't stay cooped up in the flat forever. That and Mycroft was getting under my skin."

John chuckled, straightening up. "He has a tendency to do that. Well, let me go and speak with Sherlock and then we'll go out to lunch or something."

John entered the flat, stepping between the same gap that I'd stepped through earlier. I waited outside, watching as Greg appeared with a couple of other investigators in tow, including Donovan. The woman glared at me before cutting the tape. Greg shook his head.

"I should have known you'd be here."

"Why wouldn't I?" I said, feeling myself growing defensive. "I'm his partner. I help him."

"Who picked the lock? You or Sherlock?"

"I did. Although I really wouldn't have needed to if I'd gone to the maintenance closet next door first. There's a gaping hole that was cut into the wall leading into the flat."

"You know I could arrest you for breaking and entering, yes?"

"But you won't," I shot back, stepping away from him. "We're all working together, remember? And he and I found a camera that you all overlooked during the first investigation. So something good came of it."

"I said I could, not that I was going to." Greg sighed. "Next time at least call me and let me know what you're planning on doing? The last thing I need is a report from a concerned citizen that someone is trying to break into a murder scene."

"Will do," I replied, watching as John stepped out.

"Oh. Hello Greg. We were just leaving," John said, taking me by the arm. "Got to get her home to rest."

"What if I have questions for her?" Greg called as we began to walk away.

"Call one of us and we'll answer," I replied, glancing over my shoulder at him. "I really have to be going though. Broken ankle and all that."

We left Greg standing there, confused and irritated. John hailed a taxi as I stood inside, waiting patiently. The rain was still coming down hard. John motioned for me to come out and I limped quickly, getting into the cab. John slid in next to me and the ride back to 221B was quiet. I didn't even try arguing with him about going back.

I went upstairs, John going to pick up Scarlett from Mrs. Hudson. I heard her paws scrambling up the steps as I settled in at the kitchen table, grabbing my laptop and booting it up. John went straight to the bathroom, coming back with two towels.

"Here. Dry yourself off."

"I'm busy."

"You're getting your wedding book wet."

"Damn the wedding," I muttered. "It's not important."

I looked up, finding John staring at me in shock. I realized what I said. I took the towel from him slowly, drying my hair thoughtfully.

"Did something happen between you two?"

"Aye. It's called Jim and Olivia Moriarty. I want them out of the picture before I even think about planning this wedding."

John sat down in the chair next to me, towel draped over his shoulders. "You know, revenge isn't a very good motivator. It'll eat you alive."

"I don't want revenge."

John looked me directly in the eye and I squirmed under his gaze. Unlike Sherlock, John had always had the gift of seeing right through me. "Yes you do. That's all that you're surviving on right now. I can see it in your eyes. You're battle-hungry. Take it from me, I know that look. Wanting to survive and get the bad guy all the time. I know that way of life."

I frowned, glancing at the Richard Brook-Jim Moriarty fan page I'd found the night before. There were a lot of people on it rooting for him, believing the lie that Moriarty had told before the fall, that Richard Brook was real and that Sherlock had driven him to madness. There were hundreds of blog entries detailing his exploits. I had no doubt that the poster was my sister, but I was unable to trace it back to whatever computer she was using.

"I'm not looking for revenge."

"Oh really? When's the last time you ate something?"

"Last night."

"Yeah? Because Sherlock told me that its been nearly three days since you last ate. And from what he said, it was two biscuits with your tea." John went to take my hand, but I pulled away. "Delilah, you've lost a lot of weight. A lot more than I think you can afford to lose. What did you weigh when you first started at the clinic?"

"Sixty-three kilograms."

"And you're what, a meter and a half tall?"

"A meter and three quarters."

"Right. So, back then, given your body type and amount of athleticism, that was a healthy weight. I bet if you stepped on a scale right now, you'd be at least ten kilos lighter."

I rolled my eyes. "I can't have lost that much weight. You're lying."

"There's a scale in the bathroom. Tell you what, I'll make you a bet. If I'm wrong and you're only five kilograms off from your original weight, I'll take you out to Hyde Park. But if I'm right and you've lost that much weight, you have to eat something. Deal?"

I wrinkled my nose. "What a stupid bet."

"If you thought that you would win, you would have already accepted the offer."

I got to my feet, limping towards the bathroom. "I'll show you how stupid a bet this is. There's no way that I've lost that much weight. Where's this scale you're talking about?"

"Beside the toilet. Go on. Step on. Show me how wrong Sherlock and I both are."

I hesitated, but my need to be right got the better of me. I grabbed the small white scale, setting it down on the floor. "Fine. I'll prove you both wrong," I stepped onto the scale, still staring at John. "There's no way that I've lost that much weight."

I looked down, freezing at the sight. John leaned forward, shaking his head. "Fifty kilos even. What would you like to eat?"

"I…there's no way. There's no way I've lost that much weight. This scale's broken!"

"Impossible. Sherlock bought it yesterday. Now, what do you want to eat? I can order pizza or we can go to the sub shop next door." John glanced up at me, moving to catch me as my legs gave out. "Easy Del. Easy. You're alright. What's wrong?"

"I…I don't know John. I don't know. I'm scared," I admitted, clinging to the front of John's jumper. I felt the urge to cry, but there were no tears left in me. "John, I'm scared I'm dying slowly, from the inside out. I know…I know you're Sherlock's friend…but I'm really scared and…I need help."

"I know. Sherlock and I both know. It's why I'm here. Talk to me."

"I feel lost, John. I feel like I'm wandering around in the dark and that you, Sherlock, and Mary are the only candles to guide my way. But I can hear things in the darkness moving around, waiting for the time to strike, to blow out the light. It terrifies me. I'm lost in my own mind and it's causing me to lose myself as a person." My voice began to drop until it was a whisper and John was leaning down to listen to me speak. "I am becoming something I don't recognize. A soulless monster, chained down by the things that Olivia is throwing at me. The warehouse, the videos, strapping a bomb to my chest, and now my father's body…it's killing me John. I don't want to do this anymore."

John pulled me closer to him and I closed my eyes, feeling that emptiness filling the place where the fire had once been. "Have you thought about getting help Del?"

"I've debated on it. But I don't think that going to see someone about my problems is going to help anything. The only thing that's going to help is capturing my sister and her husband and forcing them to stand trial."

"But you have to keep up your strength until that point. What happens when we finally manage to find them and you can barely stand because you've become weak?" He pulled me away, forcing me to look at him. "I have been where you are now. Take it from me. You need your strength when facing your biggest enemy. Don't let it break you Del. You're stronger than this."

"Do you…do you want to go and grab a sandwich from next door?"

* * *

 _"Did you miss me? Did you? Why don't you just die? Go blow up. Go kill yourself. Why don't you just DIE?!"_

I jerked awake, confused and shivering. Where was I?

Someone pulled back the shower curtain and I looked at Sherlock sitting on the toilet seat, a frown on his face. "What's going on? Why am I in the bathtub?"

"I was hoping that you could tell me. Last I remember, you were in the bed sound asleep. I went back to check on you and found you gone. I discovered Scarlett laying down by the tub and when I pulled back the curtain, you were curled up in the bottom." In the moonlight, I could see the fatigue on Sherlock's face. "I can only assume that you had another bad dream."

I nodded, laying back down in the tub. "Come lay with me Sherlock."

"In the tub?"

"Yes. I feel safe in here. It's small, confined. No one can sneak up on me." I watched as he got to his feet and I expected him to leave. Instead he stepped in beside me, laying down next to me. He had to lift me up at one point and then I was cradled in his arms, my head resting on his chest, our legs intertwined. "Thank you."

"I suppose you could have had a more ridiculous request. Now…will you tell me what's going on in that brain of yours and what has been bothering you so much that you won't eat?"

"Nightmares," I murmured, closing my eyes to listen to the steady rhythm of his heart. "You probably think that I'm ridiculous for letting dreams have so much control over me. Probably think that I should put them aside."

"Lila…I am in a fairly small bathtub with you, holding you in my arms. I wouldn't have done so if I didn't care to know what was bothering you." He pressed a kiss to my forehead, something he hadn't done since I'd first gotten home. "Tell me what is wrong. Let me in."

I gulped, focusing on the sound of Sherlock's heartbeat instead of the lump in my throat. "I…I've been having nightmares for a long while. But they've started taking over my thoughts during the day. I can still see that rooftop Sherlock, still feel the vest attached to me. And when I go to bed, he's always there, whispering to me, asking me…"

"Go on."

"Asking me…why won't I just die? The same thing he has said every time he has tried to kill me." I felt myself beginning to break, but I took another deep breath. "I want to get them so bad Sherlock, for what they've done to me, to you, to John. But I also know that going after them is going to be extremely difficult. Either one of them on their own is dangerous, but combined they're worse than Magnussen."

"You're worried how this is going to turn out in the end. It's why you've been pushing everyone away. Why you've been pushing _me_ away. Do you think that you're going to die?"

I hesitated before nodding slowly, opening my eyes to stare at the black shirt in front of me. "Yes. I do. And I don't think they'll stop until they've succeeded. I've been thinking about giving myself up to them. I'd do it too, if it meant protecting you, Mary, John, and the baby."

"They won't stop once you're dead. You have to know that." I looked up at him in surprise. "They'll kill you, but it'll be very slow and very painful. Once they are done killing you, they'll come for everyone else. John and Mary. The baby. Me. They aren't going to stop because you're dead. It's only going to give them a taste of what they can have if they use the right tactics."

"But, how do you-?"

"Know that? It doesn't take the world's greatest consulting detective to figure it out Delilah. Once a wolf has tasted blood, it won't stop until it's put down. I need your help in doing that." He pulled me closer to him, careful of my ribs and booted foot. "You…have had me concerned for the past few weeks. I was hoping that John would be able to talk some sense into you. He's better at those things than I am."

"I know. I'm sorry. Its been…insane. That's about the only word that I can think of that will sum up the entire situation."

"Well, now that you've admitted it, why don't we get out of this tub and look at a couple of caterers for the wedding and some bridesmaid dresses? I now have to choose a color that suites Mycroft's complexion as he'll be in the wedding party. I was hoping he would choose sitting with our parents instead."

I smiled. "You and this wedding. I swear, we should put _you_ in the wedding gown instead of me."

Sherlock chuckled. "I enjoy making plans. And this isn't something that I thought I would get to do for myself. I want our day to be perfect."

"And it will be Sherlock," I murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "Knowing you, this will be the most fantastic wedding London has ever seen."

"You know me. I never could resist a touch of the dramatic. Now, let's get out of this tub, shall we?"

 _ **Week 5**_

"Is that your professional opinion doctor?"

"Yes, it is. You can take the boot off, so long as you take it easy on your ankle for the next week or so. No taekwondo, no leaping off of buildings, no overly strenuous activities."

"What about walking?"

"Walking, yes. Running, not for another week. I must say, I am quite surprised at how quickly you've healed Ms. McKinley," Doctor Oswald said, sitting down in his chair. "Now, Sherlock tells me that you haven't been sleeping very well."

I cursed Sherlock under my breath. "I've been having the occasional nightmare, yes. Nothing too serious."

The doctor frowned. "That's not what he told me. Mentioned something about you waking up in a bathtub one night. Are you on any medications that might cause you to be sleep walking?"

"Only what you've given me."

"Well, I'm going to give you a prescription for a sleeping pill. They're relatively mild, but they should help to keep you asleep and not have you wandering around your flat." He handed me a piece of paper. "Of course, it's your choice whether or not you fill it. But I highly recommend it, especially for someone in your position."

"Aye? And what position would that be?"

"Fighting post-traumatic stress disorder and refusing to recognize it as a problem."

* * *

I walked down the street, pulling my coat tight around me. It was the first day it hadn't rained in nearly a week, but the wind was bitterly cold. I could care less though. I was able to walk around without the boot. I still had a slight limp, but once I'd gotten used to walking again I was sure it would go away. I kept my head down as I walked, thinking over Doctor Oswald's words.

"Post-traumatic stress disorder. Bah, what does he know," I muttered to myself, continuing to walk.

My phone began to ring and I glanced down at it, frowning. I didn't recognize the number. I let it ring until it went to voicemail. I went to put it back in my pocket when it rang again from the same number.

"This is Delilah McKinley."

"Why hello dear sister!" I shuddered at the sound of his voice. "How have you been? Got that hideous boot off your foot?"

"What do you want?" I asked, looking around, trying to see if I could find where he was. He had to be watching me somehow. "Why are you calling me?"

"Called to have a chat. I've got a friend of yours here you see. I think he'd like to say hi."

"Del? Is that Del? Del, don't yeh come here! I'm tellin' yeh, don't yeh come here, no matter what he says!"

"Let him go." My voice was flat. "You let him go right now or I swear to God I will kill you."

His laugh grated on my ears. "Oh so predictable. I'm giving you and Sherlock your wedding present. A _puzzle_ for you two to solve together and you have all the pieces in your possession. Can you fit them together in time to save your precious Ted?"

"Let him go you son of a bitch!"

"You'll have to find him to set him free," Moriarty said in that irritating sing-song voice of his. "Come and find him Del. We'll be waiting when you get here. But don't waste time. You've got four hours. Ta-ta!"

The call ended and I began running despite doctor's orders not to. I made it back to Baker Street, my ankle and ribs aching, but I didn't care. I burst into the flat, finding John, Sherlock, and Irene sitting around the coffee table.

"Delilah? Delilah, why are you out of breath? Where's your boot?" John asked, getting to his feet.

"It doesn't matter," I snapped. "We have to go. Now. We've only got four hours. No." I looked down at the timer on my phone that I'd started after the phone call had ended. "Three hours and forty six minutes."

"Slow down dear. It's not like someone's going to die if you don't explain what's going on," Irene said, taking a sip from her mug. "Tell us what's going on."

Sherlock stared at me. "He called you didn't he?" I nodded. "What did he say? Who does he have?"

"Ted. He has Ted."

"Who? What on earth is going on?" I could hear the irritation in John's voice.

Sherlock held my gaze as he said, "Ted is the chip shop owner that Delilah and her father used to frequent. Moriarty and Olivia have captured him, no doubt making him one of the last four letters to complete their killing spree. I am guessing by the timer on your phone that they've given us four hours to figure out where he is?"

"Yes."

"Well then, looks like we've got a bit of a time crunch. Did they give you any clues?"

"He said we have all the pieces, we just have to put them together. I don't know what he meant."

"That's not a whole lot to go on," Irene said with a frown. "I mean, there could be hundreds of things that we could go through and none of them could mean anything. May as well plan for your friend's funeral now."

I glare at her. "There's something there. Sherlock, where's that disc that you all managed to pull from the teddy camera?"

"In my laptop. Why?"

"I want to look at it. There may be something on there."

"Well, considering I haven't had much of a chance to look at it, there could be." He was pulling his laptop up onto his lap, cutting it on. "Let's see what we can find."

He began to play the video and I sat on the arm of his chair. Irene and John came to stand behind us and I squinted at the screen, trying to catch a glimpse of anything that would help us. At the nineteen minute mark the video flashed a brilliant white light and then faded to dark. There was one small sound, one tiny fraction of a sentence.

"Play that back and turn it up," I demanded and Sherlock did, going back about twenty seconds and turning the volume up. "What is that? Can you slow it down?"

"I'm trying to listen if you would be quiet."

"So am I. Now slow it down!"

"Easy you two," John muttered. "No need to have a domestic when we're all trying our best to figure it out."

"What is there to figure out? I'm going to go and do something a bit more productive than listening to a clip in a video that may not even matter." Irene straightened up. "I'll talk to you all soon. Good luck."

I barely noticed that she left, focusing on the looping clip of audio that Sherlock had managed to isolate. It was sped up, which was irritating, but I recognized the voice as Livvy's. Sherlock got up, beginning to pace. I grabbed my headphones from the coffee table, plugging them into the jack. I looked down at the timer as I did so. Two hours and thirty two minutes. Jesus, there wasn't enough time.

"Smile," I murmured to myself as I made out the words. "What is that supposed to mean?"

A hand shook my shoulder and I looked up to see John next to me. I yanked the earbud out. "What is it?"

"We're going down to the chip shop, ask if they've seen Ted or anyone that he may have spoken to. Come with us."

"Fine." I snapped the lid of the laptop closed. "But when we're done we've got to get those other tapes that you found."

"They won't be done for another three hours unfortunately," Sherlock said, wrapping his scarf around his neck. "I text Lestrade and asked him for them."

"Damn it. So all we have to go on is that small snippet of audio." I closed my eyes, trying to picture myself in my library, but I struggled with even accessing the door to enter. "Let's go then. We'll see if we can't figure anything out."

We piled into a cab, heading for the chip shop. The line was out the door as usual and I tapped my foot impatiently as we took our place. What was taking so long? I glanced up across the street as I stood between the two men. Was that a flicker of red I saw up there?

It was. A red head to be precise. I saw in her hand that she held a small switch. I realized what it was that she intended to do. "Get back."

"What?" John looked at me, confused. "What'd you say?"

"GET BACK!" I shouted, pulling my gun from its holster, firing into the air. "EVERYONE GET BACK! GET BACK!"

People began to scream and scatter. I knew I wouldn't save everyone, but I needed to give people a chance. I turned back to Sherlock and John, shoving them between two sets of brick stairs, watching from the corner of my eye as Olivia released the switch, letting it fall to the ground.

The blast was deafening and I covered my ears, tucking my head down, watching as bits of building flew around us. Sherlock and John both shielded me. When the noise died down, we all peaked over the edge of the stairs. There was nothing but a ruined shell, bodies littering the streets as the flames began to roar. I closed my eyes, forcing myself to take a few deep breaths.

I got to my feet, shoving away from Sherlock and John, going to the building that she'd been on top of. Sherlock grabbed my arm, stopping me. "No. Not yet. Lestrade's on his way. He'll have a few questions."

"Sherlock, I don't have time for questions. We've got a little under two hours to find Ted."

"If he's not dead already. We've already been lured into one trap. Do you really want to fall for another?"

"We can't just let him die!" I shouted.

"And I'm not saying that," Sherlock said calmly and I noted that John was trying to help survivors of the blast as best he could. "Use the time that we're being questioned to solve the puzzle. You know that we can leave as soon as we have a solution."

"Delilah, I could use a little help here!" John shouted and I looked up at Sherlock hesitantly. "Delilah!"

"Coming John! You'd better be right Sherlock. I don't want any more blood on my hands."

By the time Lestrade had arrived, there was an hour and thirty seven minutes before Ted was killed. I was beginning to panic, but helping people who were injured was keeping me calm. Sherlock explained the entire situation and Lestrade crossed to me as I reassured a young child that he was going to be alright. He had lost part of his leg in the explosion and John had had to tie a tourniquet. His mother had been pronounced dead at the scene. The paramedics took him away and I got to my feet, turning to the detective.

"I would say nice to see you, but this isn't a very good time," I murmured, wiping my hands on the front of my jeans.

"No, it's not. People said you fired a gun into the crowd."

"I did."

"Why?"

"I saw my sister on the roof with the switch. Gunfire was the quickest way to get people to clear out of the area. I did the best I could with what little time I had."

"Sherlock told me that there was another person in danger, the owner of the shop. Have you figured out where he may be?"

"No, not at all. We only have about twelve seconds of audio to go by."

Greg frowned. "Well, they're locking down this entire neighborhood. If you all are going to figure out where Ted is, you'd better get moving. I'll try to keep yours and Sherlock's involvement quiet."

"Thank you Greg. I appreciate it."

"Get out of here." I began to walk away when Lestrade said, "If any officer pulls you aside just…smile and say hello."

I froze. "What…what did you say?"

"To get out of here."

"No. After that."

"Just smile and say hello?"

' _Darkness. My head gives a nasty throb and I vomit. I'm disoriented, confused. I can hear men laughing all around me. I hear her voice and she says-'_

"Just smile and say hello to the camera," I murmured, walking away from Greg.

"Oi! What'd you say?"

"Nothing. Sherlock! John! Come on! The game is on!"

We were running through the streets. I glanced down at the timer on my phone. Nineteen minutes left. We'd been stopped by three officers on our way out, each one having to be convinced that we were with Lestrade. It had eaten away at precious time and now I was growing panicked.

"How much…farther…?" John panted out.

"It should be two blocks up on the left hand side," Sherlock replied, setting the pace for us. "We should arrive there with about fourteen minutes to spare."

"Good," I said, fighting against the tightness in my chest. Sherlock handed me my inhaler while we were running and I took a pull on it. "Let's get there and free Ted."

We made it to the warehouse and I felt the bile rising up in my throat. I had to remind myself that I was with John and Sherlock and that I was safe. The door was locked and I knelt in front of it, beginning to pick it. I jumped with surprise as John's foot smashed into it, knocking it in. I looked up at him in shock.

"I was in the army. What do you expect?"

We were running in and I was the first one into the main section. I saw Ted tied to a wooden post, kindling all around the bottom. On the front of his shirt was a bright yellow letter A. Sherlock and John both stopped on either side of me and I stared at the old man.

I took a deep breath before saying, "Ted? Ted, are you…are you alright?"

"Del? Is that me lil' Del? I told yeh ta keep away!"

"Ted, hold still. We're coming to get you. We've still got eleven minutes to free you. Don't panic." I looked to Sherlock. "It doesn't look like there's anyone here. Do you think that they have bombs in that kindling?"

"It doesn't look like it, so it should be a simple matter of cutting him down. Be careful with sparks though. It smells as if they've doused him in petrol."

"Del, don't come any closer! I'm fine. Stay back."

I shook my head. "I'll be right there to free you and then we're getting you out of here."

"No!" John shouted as I took a step forward and he and Sherlock both grabbed my arms to pull me back.

But it was too late. I'd triggered the tripwire. I tumbled to the floor as the pile Ted was tied to burst into flames. He began to shriek in agony and Sherlock rushed for a fire extinguisher, going to try and put out the flames. John began to pull me away from the inferno.

"TED! TED! LET GO OF ME! LET GO!" I screamed as I tried to break John's vice-like grip. "NO LET ME GO GOD DAMN IT! TED!"

John dragged me outside and Sherlock followed soon after. It was deathly quiet, save for the wail of sirens in the distance. I stared into the dark doorway of the warehouse. My phone vibrated in my pocket and I looked at the timer. 00:00:00. I could only stare at the timer as we became surrounded by flashing blue, white, and red lights.

"I'm so sorry…forgive me Ted."

* * *

I stood in front of the headstone, touching the letter in my pocket. Sherlock and John had gone to wait in the cab, wanting to give me time. There were dozens of bouquets of flowers on his grave. I knelt down at the end of it, staring at the letters.

"Theodore Christian O'Brien. Never even knew your full name," I said with a soulless smile on my lips. "We never did get around to that drink, did we? I kept putting it off, telling myself that there was still time. I guess there's not time anymore." I pinched the bridge of my nose. "You were a good man Ted. A damn good man. I wanted to get you this sooner, but I put that off too."

I set the invitation on his grave, nestling it in-between the flowers. I ignored the rain beginning to fall. I had to shake myself as the screams of pain echoed through my mind along with that constant question from Moriarty. I stared at the headstone.

"I'm so sorry I couldn't be faster or smarter or…better. I'm sorry that I couldn't be a better person. That's a good place to start. But I'm going to be. If this has taught me anything, it means that I need to be faster at deducing things, I need to be smarter at remembering things, I need to be better than I am now. I am truly sorry that you got caught in this cross-fire. I never meant for you or Nancy or any of the others to get hurt." I closed my eyes, bowing my head, knitting my fingers together. "God, I pray to you today at the foot of this wonderful man's grave to give me the strength and courage to slay the dragon. Guide me to bring justice to the evil people who have caused this man and his family so much grief. Help me to learn and to become a better person than I am now. Amen."

I got to my feet, remembering what my father had said at my grandfather's funeral all those many years ago. "Death is nothing at all…it does not count. I have only slipped away into the next room…everything remains as it was. The old life that we lived so fondly together is untouched, unchanged. Whatever we were to each other, that we are still." I went to his headstone, pressing a kiss to the cold, wet marble. "Good-bye my friend. Until I slip into the next room to join you."

I began the long walk back to the cab. In my mind I was planning our next move _._

' _The next funeral I attend will either be my sister's or my own. That I swear. I will have my revenge. Come hell or high water, I will have my revenge.'_


	4. Chapter 4: Baby Watson

***Hello lovelies! This chapter was a lot easier to write than the last one. I really enjoyed writing this one. There is smut ahead, just as a forewarning. The next couple of chapters will be a bit more fast-paced. Lila and Sherlock will be solving their very first case together! I'm so excited to write that, I can't wait. Really hoping I do it justice. Anyway, I hope you all are enjoying it and feel free to go and check out anything else that I've written. As always, reviews are welcome and I will see you all in the next chapter!***

 **Chapter 4: Baby Watson**

"Sherlock, your phone," I mumbled, not looking up from my wedding book.

"What about it?"

"Its been going off every fifteen minutes for the past hour. Don't you think you should answer it?"

"It's John. If it were important he would leave a voicemail."

I dropped the book, dashing across the room, tripping over Scarlett and nearly tumbling. I snatched up the phone, answering it. "Hello?"

"Delilah? Oh thank God! Where's Sherlock?"

"Ignoring the phone as usual."

"You've got to get down to the hospital quickly. Mary…she's…she's…"

"Slow down John," I said calmly, putting it on speaker. Sherlock glanced up at me curiously. "What's going on?"

"Mary has gone into labor. The baby's coming!"

"That's wonderful! Sherlock and I will be down in twenty minutes." I was grabbing Scarlett's leash off the hook. "We'll see you soon, alright? Keep calm and tell Mary to wait until we get there."

John ended the call and I looked at Sherlock, grinning from ear to ear. "Well, put your jacket on. Let's go."

Sherlock sighed. "I was so close to finishing these videos. Fine. Go and hail a cab. I'll be out in a minute."

I hooked Scarlett's leash to her collar, trotting down the stairs with her by my side. I knocked on Mrs. Hudson's door until she opened it, sleepy-eyed. "Delilah, what are you doing? It's late."

"I know Mrs. Hudson and I'm sorry, but I need you to keep Scarlett. Mary has gone into labor and-"

Mrs. Hudson took Scarlett's leash. "Go dear. She needs you."

"Thank you," I said, pressing a kiss to the older woman's cheek. "You are an absolute saint. We'll be back after the baby's born so you can go and visit."

"Alright. I'll take good care of Scarlett until you two get back. Come on Scarlett, let's go on to bed."

She closed the door and I turned, dashing out onto the sidewalk, throwing my hand out. "Taxi! Taxi!"

A cab pulled up to the curb. "Where ya headin' miss?"

"Saint Bartholomew's. Get us there in ten minutes and there'll be a good bonus to your fee," Sherlock said from behind me, slipping into the backseat. "Well, are you coming or are we waiting for the baby to be born?"

I smiled, clambering in next to Sherlock. "This is so exciting. A baby. _The_ baby. I can't believe it, the day's finally here."

"Actually, she's nearly a week late."

"You're not going to be deducing things about the baby right after it's born Sherlock, are you?"

"Why not?"

"Because it's a good way to get Mary and John to throw us out and I'm not trying to do that."

Sherlock sighed. "I will do my best to restrain myself."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

I smiled, watching as the cars whizzed by. "You know, Sherlock, we've never talked about having our own family."

"I thought you knew."

"Knew what?" I asked, turning to look at him. "Don't tell me. You don't want children."

"I do, actually. Three in fact, all girls. Boys get into too much trouble if you ask me."

I laughed. "Sherlock, you can't choose the genders. It's a game of chance."

"There has been quite a significant amount of scientific research behind it and-"

I leaned over to him, pressing a kiss to his lips, fingers brushing against his neck. He kissed me back, one hand resting on my hip, the other fisted in my hair. I felt the cab slow down and stop and the driver cleared his throat. Sherlock and I sprang apart and I opened my door, stepping out to head towards the hospital entrance as Sherlock paid the driver. He quickly caught up to me as I waited for the elevator.

"Where on earth did that come from?"

I giggled as I rocked back and forth on my toes. "Don't know. Why question it?"

He glanced down at me and I could see the smirk on his lips. "Feeling a bit better, are you?"

"A bit," I replied, stepping in, hitting the button for the fourth floor. John had text me the room number. "Feel as if I haven't done that in a while."

"No. But I haven't done this in a long time either." Sherlock tapped the emergency stop button with his foot before pinning me to the wall of the elevator, kissing me passionately, pulling me close to him.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, enjoying the feeling of him pressed against me. I dragged my nails down his back and he growled, burying his face in my neck, pressing kiss after kiss to the sensitive skin. I let out a low moan, panting for air. He reached under my shirt, cupping my breast with his hand and I shook myself.

"Sherlock…stop. We're in a hospital elevator on the way to see our friends who are having their first child. We can continue this later." He continued to press kisses to my neck. "Sherlock, seriously. Stop."

He pulled back, pouting. "But…its been so long."

"I know," I murmured, resting my hand against the side of his face, my thumb brushing against those sharp cheekbones. "I know. But baby first, and then we can go back to the flat to continue what we started."

I pulled the button for the emergency stop and we began our ascent once more. I straightened the hem of my shirt and finger combed my hair quickly. "How do I look?"

"Like you snogged your fiancé in an elevator." I glared up at him before chuckling, realizing that he was joking with me. "You look fine. A little flushed in the face, but John won't notice."

The doors opened and we walked down the hallway. The door to the room was open a crack and I could hear John coaching Mary. I knocked and then Sherlock strode in, going to stand at the foot of the bed. "As beautiful as ever Mary. You look fantastic."

"Sherlock, I'm in labor. I highly doubt I look fantastic. Where's Del?"

"Right here," I said going to stand next to Sherlock. "How far along are you?"

"Three centimeters. Jesus it hurts."

I frowned. "You're moving quickly for someone who has only been in labor for two hours."

"Oh no, I've been in labor for four. I was being stubborn about going because the contractions weren't as regular as they should have been." Her face became contorted with pain and I stepped to the other side, taking her hand. "Don't…don't have a baby if you can help it."

"We weren't planning on it anytime soon," I said, watching as she smiled. "There you go. Let's get you smiling a little bit. It'll be over before you know it and then there'll be a little baby for all of us to see. Have you both thought of a name?"

"Yes," John said, dabbing at his wife's forehead with a cool cloth. "We decided on it last night actually."

"And? What is it?"

"You'll see on the birth certificate. We're keeping…keeping it a surprise."

A doctor and nurse came in. "Who are you two?"

"I'm her sister," I said quickly. "That's my husband in the corner."

"Well, we're going to have to ask you both to leave while we check her over. We'll call you back in when we're done."

I pressed a kiss to Mary's sweaty cheek, brushing her hair from her forehead. "You do look beautiful Mary. Motherhood looks good on you."

"You I believe, but not him. I'll see you in a few minutes."

Sherlock gave John a handshake. "Good luck. You're going to need it."

"Thanks? But what-"

Sherlock looped his arm through mine before John could finish his sentence and we wandered down to the waiting room. "What did you mean by telling John good luck?"

"At the rate of her contractions and the amount of pain that she's experiencing, baby Watson will be here within the next thirty minutes or so."

"But…this is her first child!"

"Yes."

"Statistically, women bearing their first child have longer labors than women who have had multiple children."

"There are always exceptions to the rules," Sherlock said, leaning forward in his chair, closing his eyes and pressing his hands together. "They should be giving her the epidural now and with her rapid rate of progression, we'll be hearing a healthy baby's cries soon enough."

I smiled, touching Sherlock's knee. "Have I ever told you that I love how brilliant you are?"

He opened his eyes, glancing over at me. "No, I don't think I've ever heard you tell me that. Normally it's something about how beautiful my eyes are or how good of a man I am."

I rolled my eyes. "Now I remember why I don't. You've already got an overinflated ego about your intelligence. I don't need to add to it."

"I'd really like to hear it."

"Would you now? But what's in it for me if I tell you? Seems a bit one-sided Mr. Holmes."

He leaned in close to whisper in my ear, "Would you like to go back to the elevator for your payment or would you rather wait until we got home?"

I shuddered, playfully pushing his face away. "Stop it you. This is a serious matter we're here for."

"Yes. Quite serious." Sherlock cleared his throat, straightening his scarf. "The most serious of serious matters."

He and I both burst into giggles and I took his hand in mine, running my thumb over the ring. "What would I do without you?"

"Oh, probably be bored and still living on the streets with Bill."

"Speaking of Bill, where has he been?"

"Doing a bit of spying for me. He runs the entire homeless network now. I was actually going to see if he'd like to attend the wedding."

"Of course. He's a sweetheart."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "I didn't think you cared much for him."

"He can be…a bit like you sometimes. A bit desensitized to people's feelings. But he and I have shared quite a few stories. I like Bill. He can definitely come."

"Well then, I believe that settles the guest list. And you have your bridal party?"

"Aye. Mary, Molly, and Scarlett."

"You're bringing the dog?"

"Yes. She'll be trained by that time. She's as much a part of our family and friends as anyone of the two-legged variety. Is that a problem?"

"Well, I was thinking…what about Irene?"

I shook my head. "No. In fact, hell no. You can't be serious Sherlock!"

"I was thinking that Scarlett could be the ring bearer and that Irene could be part of the bridal party. Pair her with Greg, Mycroft with Molly, and obviously John with Mary." Sherlock looked at me with pleading blue-green eyes. "Please? She'd make a lovely addition."

I gritted my teeth. "Sherlock, I barely _know_ the woman and you're asking me to put her in my wedding party?" I ran a hand through my hair before sighing. "Tell her to meet me for lunch next Friday. I'm off from the clinic that day. You're lucky I love you." Sherlock began to smile and I narrowed my eyes. "What?"

"Nothing. Just…haven't heard I love you in a while. It sounded lovely."

I nudged his shoulder with mine and he looked up at me, eyes twinkling. "You know that even if I don't say it, I do still love you, right?"

"I know. It's nice to hear it every so often." Sherlock took my hand. "I know I don't say it often enough to you either."

"Yes, but I know that you do. You are always looking out for me and my well-being. I know that you love me."

"I should probably say it more often, shouldn't I?"

I shrugged. "Probably. But I also know you're not one who's prone to confessing his emotions. Hell, you barely have emotions."

"I do too!"

"Since when Mr. High-Functioning Sociopath?" I teased.

"Since I met you and John."

I felt my heart flutter in my chest. "What do you mean?"

"I was always treated…differently growing up. I had no such thing as friends. When John came along, I only had one. And then you came and…it sort of opened my eyes to everything else." Sherlock touched the ring on my left hand. "I don't hand out engagement rings to an ordinary person you know."

"So I've discovered. What made me so special Mr. Holmes?"

We both froze when we heard the sound of a baby crying from down the hall. He and I got to our feet and John came running towards us, a mixture of joy and terror on his face. "She's had her. She has had the baby. Sherlock, Delilah, you have to come look. She's beautiful!"

We watched as John ducked back into the room and we took our time going back to the room, giving the doctors and nurses time to clean the baby and Mary up. We entered as they were resting the baby in John's arms. I went straight to Mary, who was smiling up at me breathlessly.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been through a war. But it was worth it. Most definitely worth it." She gave me a tired smile. "Who's holding her now?"

"Sherlock actually," I said, watching as Sherlock gently cradled the baby in his arms. I felt my heart melt at the sight. "He looks…happy holding her."

"As he should. That's his goddaughter."

Sherlock glanced up at Mary. "Come again?"

"You two. You're the godparents," John said. "Should something happen to Mary or I-"

"Nothing will happen," I growled.

"Should something happen, we're entrusting you two to take care of Sheryl Claire."

I looked down at Mary in shock. "You gave the baby my middle name?"

"Yes. And Sherlock's first name. Well, the female version of his name anyway," Mary said and I saw out of the corner of my eye as Sherlock handed the baby back to John, exiting the room. "What's the matter with him? Something I said?"

"I don't know." I turned to John. "Do you?"

"No, not at all."

"I'll go and find him and then we'll be back in the morning."

"You can come back after you've found him if you'd like. You haven't held her yet," Mary protested.

"It's fine. I've got a whole lifetime to hold her. You need your rest and bonding time. I'll text you after I've found him John."

I took off out of the room, hearing the elevator doors close. I knew that was where Sherlock had gone. I caught the faintest glimpse of the light on the elevator showing which direction he was headed in. I took the stairs, climbing up to the roof of Saint Bartholomew's Hospital.

I found Sherlock sitting against the wall near the edge, smoking a cigarette. I went to him, sitting down and crossing my legs. I looked up at the sky, spotting a few stars. "You know, most people would be honored and say thank you when their friend names their child after them."

"I'm not most people."

"So I noticed."

"Why are you here?"

"I came to find you."

"Well you've found me. Now go away."

I glanced over at him. "What's the matter Sherlock? Why are you pushing me away?"

"I'm not."

"Yes you are, you told me to go away. I'm not John or Molly. I'm not just going to go away because you tell me to."

"You're impossible, do you know that?"

I scooted closer to him until we were shoulder to shoulder. "I've been told that a time or two. Sherlock, talk to me. You should be happy. Why are you upset?"

"I'm not-I'm just…fine, I am upset. They shouldn't have named her after me."

"Why?" Sherlock hesitated and I looked at him, surprised to see the tears in his eyes. "Sherlock?"

He took my hand, intertwining his fingers with mine. "I don't deserve it. They were…they were right to tell me no. Why would they change their minds? I mean, Sheryl? That girl will be teased to no end in school."

"You really don't understand it, do you?"

"What is there to understand? They've made a foolish mistake."

I chuckled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Mary was right. There are some things that you can't deduce. They did it because they love you. Remember when you gave the speech at John and Mary's wedding? And you said that John was the bravest, kindest, and wisest man you'd ever known?" Sherlock nodded slowly, turning to look at me. "This was his way of doing the same thing, Sherlock. He named her after you because you are the bravest and wisest man he has ever known. And he wants his daughter to have some of the good qualities that you have."

"How did you deduce that?"

I smiled, resting my head on his shoulder. "Some things you can't deduce Sherlock. Some things you just know. Instinct if you will."

"And your instinct tells you that that's why he chose the name?"

"John doesn't come out and tell you things. You two have some sort of unspoken agreement in that regard it seems. It's like you not saying that you love me. I know it by your actions, not by your words. Same concept." I shivered as a cold wind blew and Sherlock pulled me into his arms. "You don't have to say thank you if it will make you uncomfortable. But you should show it to him."

"How?"

"Love little Sheryl as if she were your own. Offer to help with her when she gets a little older, teach her how to be smart and to not let things get to her. Have tea parties with her, let her dress you up, bandage her when she falls down, and most of all, show her the side of you that I get to see." He looked down at me and I could see the surprise in his eyes. "That little girl will call you uncle and she will love you as much as her own parents."

"What about you?"

"Well, I'll be doing the same thing of course. Loving her with all my heart. But I have a feeling that she'll love you more. Uncle Sherlock. It has a nice ring to it."

He pressed a kiss to the top of my head and I felt a couple of tears drop into my hair. I said nothing about them, only wrapped my arms around his waist, hugging him. We stayed like that for a few minutes until I began violently shivering. Sherlock helped me to my feet and we walked to the door, going down the stairs once more.

 _ **Found him. We're going home. We'll be back in the morning to see you three. Will you all need anything? –DM**_

 _ **We're fine. Thank you for the offer though. She's so beautiful. –JW**_

 _ **They both are. Enjoy your time with her. Make sure that Mary gets enough rest tonight. Love you two…or I should say three now. See you soon. –DM**_

 _ **I will. Love you both as well. Thank you for being here. Keep an eye on him for me, will you? –JW**_

 _ **Always do. –DM**_

I walked beside Sherlock as I sent the last text. "Where are we going?"

"I wanted to walk a bit if you don't mind."

I shook my head. "Not at all. But where to?"

"Hyde Park. I need…I need to think."

I took his hand, walking wordlessly beside him as he drifted farther away in thought. I looked at the people bustling by and I began to deduce things about them. I needed the practice, as Sherlock was apt to remind me constantly. I could only get a thing or two from each person we passed, but I supposed that it was a start. We finally stopped at the park, Sherlock going to perch on the top of the bench and I sat on the seat, watching the people that passed by.

"You're deducing."

I shot Sherlock a look before shaking my head. "No I'm not."

"Yes you are. I could see it on your face when we were walking. You're practicing. Don't lie."

"I'm not lying."

"Yes you are."

"No I'm not!"

Sherlock chuckled. "Alright." There was an awkward pause. "What about that woman walking her dog?"

"Middle aged, single. This is her usual routine judging by the way the dog is walking. She probably thinks that having such a big dog will protect her when she walks this late at night. Must work in a shop or a grocery because it's too late for office workers to be getting off and she isn't dressed for someone who works in an office anyway." I cursed myself silently for proving him right.

"What else?"

"You tell me."

I saw the glint of glee appear in his eye and watched as his mind began to work. "She works in a grocery. You can see it by the cracked skin between her thumb and forefinger, the hand she probably uses to handle plastic bags all day long. Also, she forgot to take off her name badge and is still wearing her stained work trousers. So she left the house as soon as she got home, meaning that she was running late and the dog had to go out before she could relax. She is newly divorced. You can see the imprint on her ring finger and she's hoping for a reconciliation, hence why she still wears the ring around her neck and why she is glancing down at her phone every couple of minutes to see if he text her."

"Anything else?"

"Yes, but it's your turn."

"Alright…" I focused my gaze on the woman coming up the path, her dog sniffing at the ground. "Husband felt bad that he left her, it's why he left the dog. You can tell by the way that the dog has been pulling her. He's used to being handled by someone with a bit more power. She relied on her husband for most everything, including paying for her hair appointments and her plastic surgery. So she's used to having things given to her and now she has to do it on her own. It's why she looks so tired and why her hair color is fading, revealing her silver hair that she no doubt tries to hide. Oh. And she's also a lesbian, possibly bisexual if you're right about her wanting to reconcile."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "How did you deduce that one?"

"Because she has checked out every female's rear end since she arrived. I also watched as she slipped the woman at the entrance of the park a piece of paper, no doubt her number."

"Prove it."

Now it was my turn to raise an eyebrow. "Prove it?"

"Yes. Show me that you're right. Pretend I don't believe you."

I rolled my eyes. "This is an Aling situation all over again. Fine. Watch me."

I pulled my phone out of my pocket, walking along the path. I drifted over to where she was walking, bumping into her before entangling myself in her dog's leash. "Oh dear, I'm so sorry! Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine," the woman said, sounding mildly irritated. "Maybe next time watch where you're going."

"Of course. Of course. Here, let me just…" I unwound myself from the leash, patting the dog on the head. "Again, I'm so sorry. You have a beautiful dog."

"Thank you. Now if you'll excuse me," she began to walk away and I touched her arm. "What?"

"Nothing. I just wanted to tell you what wondrous eyes you have. Haven't seen a pair of green beauties like those since I left home." I'd taken on a heavier Irish accent and I gave her the most charming smile I could manage. "I know I don't know you, but I'm Gwen. Would you like to grab a cup of coffee as an apology?"

The woman smiled at me. "Sure. But it'll cost you."

"How much?"

"Well, depends on what you want to do after coffee. Normally a date and oral will cost thirty pound, but because you're easy on the eyes I'll make it twenty. If you'd like to do a bit more than that, it's eighty pound an hour with a one hour minimum. I promise you sweetheart that I'll make it worth your while."

I felt my face flush. "Wait, so you're _not_ a lesbian?"

"I'm whatever you need me to be sweetheart, so long as the price is right." Sherlock grabbed me by the arm and we began to walk away. "Wait! I'll do a threesome if that's your thing!"

"Not interested!" Sherlock called over his shoulder, glancing down at me as I began to laugh incredulously. "You've got a lot to learn before you play deductions with me. I was hoping that you'd figure out that she was a prostitute once she got closer."

"How did you know?"

"She'd taken the loop twice with her dog already. The woman at the front was clearly her pimp or her handler, one of the two. It was money she was slipping into her hand, so she has had a customer already tonight. The dog is for her protection, but it's docile until given a word, no doubt something simple like bite or attack." Sherlock chuckled. "Also, I thought that the shoes would have given it away. She's wearing five inch red stilettos while walking a dog."

"So, you tricked me into believing that she was a newly divorced woman who worked in a grocery?" I frowned. "But...why would she be wearing a shop uniform?"

"So she wouldn't draw attention to herself. It's a new trick that they're learning. Give signs, signals, but don't outright say that they're a prostitute so as not to catch the eyes of the law. At least not this early at night. A bit later and she'll probably go and change into something more…suitable for her line of work. And I tricked you to teach you to observe for yourself, not go off of what others are telling you."

I shook my head. "You are much better at this than I am."

"Yes." My frown deepened and I looked down at my hands in shame. "But, you're getting better. I told you once, you'll never be as good as I am and definitely never as good as Mycroft. But you'll be better than most people. Keep practicing. Now, why don't we go home?"

"Alright. I need a shower when we get there. I feel dirty."

We arrived back at the flat a little after midnight and I took off up the stairs. Sherlock let himself into Mrs. Hudson's flat, grabbing Scarlett. I was stripping out of my clothes on the way to the bathroom, cutting the water on and closing the door. I heard Sherlock coming up the stairs and Scarlett raced down the hall towards the bedroom. I had no doubt that she was looking for me.

I took my hair out of its ponytail, looking at myself in the mirror. I frowned. Ever since John and I had our discussion and he'd actually shown me how much weight I had lost, I'd been self-conscious about the changes to my body. Add to that the newly formed scar tissue on my back and I hadn't wanted Sherlock to see me naked. I knew he'd comment on my protruding hip bones and the prominence of my ribcage. I hadn't realized how far I'd let myself descend into madness.

"That's what friends are for I suppose. To point out when you're going too far down the rabbit hole," I murmured to myself, stepping under the hot water. "Thank God for John Watson."

I had rinsed the shampoo out of my hair and was scrubbing in conditioner when I heard the door open. "Sherlock? Is that you?"

"Yes." He pulled back the curtain, sticking his head around. "Room for one more?"

I hesitated before nodding. "Sure. Save a polar bear or two by sharing."

He stepped in next to me and I looked at him, wincing when I saw the scar from the bullet. I wanted to crawl away as Sherlock looked me over as well. I could see the pain and the shock in his eyes. I covered myself with my arms as best I could. Sherlock pulled them away, pinning them to my side.

"Let me look at you. I haven't been able to since our night after Magnussen was killed."

"Sherlock-"

"I'm not judging you," he said firmly, holding my gaze. "I only wish to look at you. Please."

I dropped my gaze before stepping back, letting him have his look. I felt my cheeks growing red, my heart beginning to race. I knew he'd come out with some comment about how I needed to take better care of myself or how I looked like a skeleton. So it surprised me when he pulled me into his arms, pressing a kiss to the top of my head as the water poured down over both of us.

"I'm sorry."

I pulled away, staring up at him in disbelief. "Sorry for what?"

"For not seeing it sooner. John and Mycroft had to point it out before I could see it." He turned me around, massaging the conditioner into my scalp with his fingers. "I feel as if I've failed to take care of you."

"It's…it's fine."

"It's not. But you know that already. I don't need to remind you." He dipped my head under the water, scrubbing the soap from my hair. "It's alright though. You've got seven months to get healthy again."

"I will definitely do that. Now," I grabbed the loofa and his body wash from the edge of the tub. "I think you need a bit of cleaning Mr. Holmes."

"Is that so?"

"Mhmm." I squirted the soap and began to wash him, enjoying every time he shuddered when my fingertips brushed against his sudsy skin. "How did I get so lucky?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean there is more to you than meets the eye. You keep more covered up than your emotions." I got to my knees, pressing a kiss to his hip bones, hearing him hiss. My fingers dug into his lower back as I nipped at his inner thigh before taking him into my mouth.

He groaned, one hand fisting in my hair, the other against the wall to support himself. I closed my eyes, tongue swirling around his tip, hand wrapped around his shaft, stroking him slowly. He jerked into me and I glanced up at him, seeing barely controlled need in those galaxy eyes of his. I pulled away and he was reaching around me, cutting the water off. I raised an eyebrow at him and he pulled the curtain back, stepping out of the tub before sweeping me off of my feet, carrying me into our room.

He threw me onto the bed, following close behind, pressing a ravenous kiss to my lips. I let out a gasp of surprise as he pushed deep into me. I hooked my legs around his waist, lifting my hips to meet every thrust. His lips and fingers seemed to be everywhere, sending trails of fire blazing through me. Sherlock pulled out of me, rolling me onto my stomach. I braced myself, his hands gripping my hips as he pushed into me. I moaned, burying my face into the pillows, hands fisting into the blankets. He reached around, rubbing my clit as he thrust deep into me. I let out a cry of ecstasy and I felt him shudder, moaning my name softly in my ear as he reached his own climax.

He pressed gentle kisses to my shoulders and back before pulling out of me. I laid down next to him, staring at him breathlessly. Sherlock gave me a small smile before tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. "Have I told you how beautiful you are lately?"

I blushed, smiling at him. "Not lately, no."

"Well, you are." He leaned over to press a kiss to the tip of my nose. "I can see why people have weddings and believe in love and sentiment. At least, I can when I look at you. How did I get so lucky?"

I chuckled. "You can't steal my line Sherlock."

"Oh, but I can. I really did get lucky in finding you. My little thief."

I let out a throaty laugh. "Oh, you can't even say anything. I found your box of Lestrade's badges when I was cleaning out the closet. And I also read some of John's blog. So don't even play the thief card with me."

He rolled onto his back, grinning at the ceiling. "You've done a bit of snooping then, have you?"

"I like to call it investigating." Sherlock looked over at me, his grin widening. "I had to know the man I was marrying."

"And?"

"And what?"

"And did you learn about the man you're marrying?"

"Aye. He's charming. Handsome. Devilish. Does amazingly well in bed. And isn't that bad of a pickpocket. He also has a penchant for breaking and entering, which I think is completely ludicrous."

"Couldn't agree more. He sounds like trouble."

"Oh he is," I agreed, propping myself up on my elbow. "Calls himself a high-functioning sociopath."

"Does he now?"

"Yep," I replied, popping my p the same way that Sherlock did from time to time. "But I guess he's the perfect one for me because I wouldn't have anyone else in my life. Underneath the need to be dramatic and the front of coldness he puts on he's a good man. One of the best in fact. I couldn't imagine marrying anyone else."

"Is that so?"

"Oh you!" I shoved his shoulder playfully. "What, are you trying to get me to say something Sherlock?"

"Maybe."

"What should I say?"

Now he propped himself up on his elbow, our faces centimeters away from one another's. I felt my heart skip a beat and my breathing grew shallow, the blood rushing to my face. "Maybe that you love me. That you can't live without me. That you can't wait for our wedding."

"Is that all?"

"You could also say that I am the most intelligent, handsome, well-mannered-"

I pressed a finger to his lips, smiling gently. "You know I think all of those things of you. Minus the being well-mannered thing of course. We're still working on that. But I do think that you are handsome and highly intelligent. I do love you and no, I don't think that I could live without you. Trying to do that would be like trying to live without air. Most of all, I cannot wait for our wedding in seven months. Delilah Claire Holmes. Or should we call you Sherlock McKinley?"

"Actually, it would be William Sherlock Scott McKinley. Bit of a mouthful if you ask me."

I shook my head, chuckling. "I should have known that Sherlock wasn't your real first name. Anything else I need to know before we're married?"

"I have three illegitimate children, two wives, multiple sexual partners in different countries, and I'm MI6 with my brother." My eyes widened and Sherlock began to laugh. "I'm only joking with you."

"Good. I thought I was going to have to adopt three children and ask Mary for some tips on assassination when she got out of the hospital." I wiped my brow dramatically. "Crisis averted."

We both broke into laughter and I laid on my back, staring at the ceiling. Sherlock grabbed my hand, his fingers intertwining with mine. "Lila?"

"Yes Sherlock?"

"I love you."

I felt my heart swell up with joy. "I love you too."

I closed my eyes beginning to drift off to sleep when I felt Sherlock's lips gently against mine. "I'll always love you my fiery tempered Irish thief."

"And I'll always love you my dark haired lying angel."

"Good. I'm holding you to that."

I rolled over, curling into his bare chest, feeling his arms wrap around me. "Scout's honor?"

"Scout's honor."

* * *

I woke up early in the morning, taking Scarlett for a quick walk around the block before returning home. Sherlock was still sound asleep when I got back and I made tea, sending John a quick text to let him know that we'd be there around ten o'clock that morning. He made no reply and I was fairly certain that he was still asleep. It was only seven in the morning after all.

I went straight for my laptop on the desk, sitting down in the chair, Scarlett laying down at my feet. I opened the website that I'd been haunting for the past two weeks, taking a sip of my tea as I scrolled through the forums. I'd had Irene talk me through hiding the IP address, that way I could follow the site with no issues.

' _Ran into my sister and Sherlock the other week. Richard was quite upset about it. Ended up blowing a fuse at our local chip shop. It wasn't pretty. Needless to say, we probably won't be seeing her for a bit. But we're trying to plan a reconciliation in the next couple of months. They say that spring is a time for rebirth. Maybe we could try that then.'_

I shook my head, gritting my teeth. Reading this blog made me sick to my stomach, but at that moment, it was the only thing that we had against them. I hadn't even told Sherlock about it. I wanted to keep it secret until I absolutely had to tell someone. I had no doubt that he would get on there and reveal who he was within ten minutes. I scanned through some of the comments, feeling my stomach turn at them. All of these people, all of these _fools,_ unable to see what monsters my sister and her husband were.

The death toll from the chip shop had been devastating, at least to me. Nineteen people dead, twenty two injured. The little boy that John and I had helped had become the sickening poster child for the entire debacle. The headline had read, _'Have You Seen My Mummy?'_ I'd broken down and cried when I'd seen it that morning in the paper.

My phone vibrated next to me and I jumped, staring down at the screen. I recognized the number immediately.

 _ **Is he awake yet? –MH**_

 _ **No. He's not. Why? What on earth could you want this early in the morning Mycroft? –DM**_

 _ **That case that I was talking to him about. We found the body. –MH**_

 _ **And? I'm assuming you suspect foul play if you want Sherlock involved. –DM**_

 _ **So you do have a brain. Very good. –MH**_

 _ **I hope you know that sarcasm doesn't carry very well in text. What happened? I'll tell him when he wakes to call you. –DM**_

 _ **She was found chopped up in pieces on the bank of the Thames. Her parts were in separate bags. Well, I say chopped, but it looks like they were cut surgically. –MH**_

 _ **So, whoever found her practices medicine. Perhaps thought that she wouldn't be missed and happened to pick the one prostitute that was a government agent. You'll find your man. –DM**_

 _ **Actually, it's a bit more complicated than that. Have Sherlock call me when he's awake. –MH**_

 _ **A please every once in a while wouldn't kill you. –DM**_

 _ **Fine. PLEASE have him call me when he wakes. –MH**_

 _ **Thank you. I will. Talk to you soon- DM**_

I locked the phone, going back to the website. I heard Sherlock get up and I watched as he sank down into his chair, knees curled up to his chest, eyes closed. I typed a reply to one of the comments on the site. I was becoming more popular with a lot of the people on the forums. That was the entire goal. If I could become one of the top-ranked then perhaps Olivia would contact me.

"What on earth could you possibly be typing up so early?" Sherlock sighed and I turned to look at him.

"Composing an email to an old friend. Mycroft text me this morning. He wants you to call him."

"Oh, for what? I've talked to him enough to last me a couple of lifetimes at this point."

"Something about they found the agent's body in pieces, the parts in separate bags."

"Boring. Obviously someone found out who she was working for and began hacking off limbs trying to torture a confession out of her. It's a warning to all other agents to stop or they'll face the same fate."

I rolled my eyes. "He said, and I quote, 'It's a bit more complicated than that. Have Sherlock call me when he's awake.' You can read the entire conversation if you'd like. It sounds important."

"Not interested. What time are we going to the hospital again?"

"I told John around ten and that we were bringing Mrs. Hudson with us."

"We are?"

"Yes, Sherlock. We are."

"I suppose I should get ready then."

"Aye, you should."

"Well, you're not going out looking like that, are you?"

I sighed, turning around in the chair to glare at him. "Even if I was, why would it matter to you?"

"Because you are not looking like a ragamuffin. Go and brush your hair while I dress." Sherlock got up from his chair, heading down the hallway. "Oh and you should leave it down. It looks good that way. Makes the angles in your face seem softer."

I pinched the bridge of my nose before getting up from my chair, closing the lid to the laptop so Sherlock couldn't snoop through my things. As far as I knew, he hadn't been able to figure out my password quite yet, which was fine with me. There were things on that computer that I definitely didn't want him reading.

I brushed my hair quickly, leaving it down but putting in the headband that I'd worn at Mary's wedding. I was in the middle of brushing my teeth when Sherlock knocked on the bathroom door. "Are you almost done in there?"

"Two seconds!" I called, spitting in the sink. I let out a yelp of fear when I looked up to see Sherlock behind me. "Jesus Sherlock! Why? Why must you _always_ sneak up on me?"

"It's fun. One day you might actually hear me coming."

I sighed before rinsing my mouth out. "One day you're going to give me a heart attack, you know that, don't you?"

He pinched my rear and I jumped a bit. "Good thing we know a good doctor."

I laughed, shaking my head. "I'm going to go and get dressed. Stay out of trouble please."

"I make no promises."

I stepped out of the bathroom, closing the door behind me. Sherlock had already laid out my clothes for me, a dark grey sweater dress with black leggings and black knee high boots. I sighed. "You know, I _can_ pick out my own clothes."

"Yes, I know. But I was bored. You look good in that outfit."

"That's fine and all, but good Lord Sherlock, you act as if I dress like a slob most of the time." He opened the door, giving me a look. "I do not look like a slob!"

"Whatever makes it so you sleep better at night dear."

I glared at him as he closed the door. "You're impossible."

I stripped down before pulling the dress over my head and the leggings up. I was pulling the second boot on when he stepped out from the bathroom. "See? You look fantastic."

"Mmm."

"Oh come on, you can't be upset with me about this, can you?"

"Sherlock, you told me I look like a slob!"

"Actually, the word I used earlier was ragamuffin, but it has the same connotation." He snapped for Scarlett to go to her bed. "You are a beautiful woman. I don't understand why you insist on hiding it constantly."

I blushed. "I...feel comfortable in those clothes."

"They're a safety blanket for you."

I stared at him before shrugging my shoulders. "I guess if that's what you'd like to call them, yes. That is what they are."

Sherlock closed the gap between us, pulling me into his arms. "Will you trust me on this?"

"What do you mean?"

"For a week, I want you to let me pick out your outfits. One week is all I'm asking for."

I sighed. "Would it make you happy?"

"It would please me, yes. I'll use everything that's already in the closet. But you have to give me a week."

"Fine. But one week only. And it can't be anything completely ridiculous either as we're still on a case and I may have to run around."

"Deal." He pressed a kiss to my lips. "Now, let's go and visit little Sheryl Claire, shall we?"

* * *

We spent four hours at the hospital with Mary and John. I'd brought both of them coffee and they'd been very thankful for it. I'd also gotten a chance to hold little Sheryl. She was absolutely precious and I'd fallen in love instantly when her eyes had opened to look up at me.

We'd left Mrs. Hudson there to chat with Mary, as I'd gotten a strange feeling that we needed to get home. That feeling was only confirmed when I heard Scarlett barking as we got out of the cab. I ran inside, drawing my gun before I pressed an ear to the door. Scarlett was scratching frantically at it and I stepped inside, swinging it around as I checked to see if the flat was empty. The window by the desk was wide open and I looked out, seeing a red-headed woman standing in the alley. She blew a kiss to me before running off.

"What is it? Who was it?" Sherlock asked, doing his best to calm Scarlett.

"My fucking sister," I growled, tucking the gun back into its holster. "What on earth could she have wanted."

Sherlock frowned. "Delilah? Did you leave anything on the kitchen table before we left."

"No, why?" I asked as I closed the window.

"I didn't think so." I heard him step into the kitchen and there came the distinct sound of ripping paper off of a package. "Oh."

I turned to see Sherlock holding a baby doll's head in his hand, little wires and the face of a clock wrapped around the front. I felt the color drain from my face. "That fucking bitch."

"'We wished to send our regards to the happy couple,'" Sherlock read aloud from a note that had been tucked inside the baby's head. "'We are so deeply sorry that we missed the birth of baby Watson, but wished to send this reminder to them that we are always watching out for the little one. We hope that you all keep us in mind the next time you hold little Sheryl Claire Watson. With love as always, Jim and Livvy Moriarty.'"

I began to tremble with rage. "If they take one single _step_ towards that baby I will kill them both where they stand."

Sherlock looked up at me. "They're not going to hurt the baby."

"How can you know that Sherlock? That's the _easiest_ way that they're going to be able to get to all of us."

"I know that they won't for that very reason. The easier and more obvious it is, the less likely they will be to go for it. They're only doing this to shake us up, take us off the case." Sherlock set the baby doll head down, going to pull me in his arms. "They'll be safe. Sheryl will definitely be safe. Don't you ever doubt that."

"We have to end this," I whispered, clinging to him. "We have to before they really hurt someone."

"Agreed. And we will."

I nodded, stepping away from Sherlock. "I'm holding you to that."

I sat down at the kitchen table, picking up the newspaper. I read the headline, feeling a sense of dread twist its way into my stomach. _'Ghost Murderer of the Century: Jack the Ripper Returns!'_

I opened the paper up fully and gasped, dropping it onto the table. "What is the matter with you Lila?"

"The woman. The woman from last night. That...that's her!"

I pointed one trembling finger at the picture. The woman from the park last night looked up at us, smiling from ear to ear. Sherlock snatched the paper off of the table, scanning through the article. I put my head in my hands, leg bouncing up and down. Sherlock sat in his chair, setting the paper back down, leaning forward in his seat.

"Call Mycroft. We need to have a discussion. I'm taking his case."


	5. Chapter 5: Jack the Copycat

***Hello lovelies! Sorry its taken me so long to write this chapter. I'm going to be honest, I hit a bit of a roadblock in my writing. But I think I've pretty much cleared it and I'll be writing a bunch more this weekend. I hope everyone has had a wonderful week and I hope you enjoy this next chapter! Thank you again for reading and enjoy.***

 **Chapter 5: Jack the Copycat**

I kept my eyes closed as I processed the information that I'd been given by Greg and Mycroft. We'd decided to meet the next morning about the case. I'd half expected to have another body crop up, but the papers hadn't said anything.

"So, what you mean to tell me is that there have been four murders of this kind and nobody made the connection until after the third?"

"Well, in our defense, Scotland Yard didn't know about the _third_ murder until just now," Greg retorted. "We knew that we had a killer on our hands once the second body turned up and after the third, we figured out that they were a copycat of Jack the Ripper."

"Not only a copycat, but a serial killer," Sherlock said, staring at the pictures of the corpses and crime scenes that he'd pinned to the walls. He hadn't slept at all the night before. "All women of the night, all between the ages of twenty-five and thirty-five. Each girl has a different hair color, body type. Nothing to link them together."

"What about the woman from the park? She was much older than thirty-five," I said, stepping up beside Sherlock.

"Wait, you knew the woman from the park?" Greg asked incredulously. "How? Why? You didn't…utilize her services did you?"

"No!" Sherlock and I both snapped at the same time.

"I see…well, that's good because I would have to take you off the case and label you as suspects."

"Wouldn't be the first time," I muttered.

"Well, this has been fun brother mine, but I have other matters to atte-"

"No you don't. Sit." Sherlock turned on his brother who was going to stand up. "You are withholding evidence from me. What is it?"

"Oh, you can't be serious. Why would I withhold evidence?" I could hear the annoyance in Mycroft's voice as he settled back into the chair.

"Because you want to see if I can solve the case without it. If this is a copycat of Jack the Ripper then I'll need all the help I can get. They'll be very careful. After all, the original's claim to fame was never getting caught. Now, the evidence." Sherlock held out his hand, but Mycroft made no move to give him anything. "Fine. I won't take it then. Consider me off the case."

Mycroft let out a heavy sigh, getting to his feet once more. He took a manila envelope out of his pocket. "In the envelope are three photos that my agent managed to snap before she was killed. They're not very good or else I would have already had my facial analysis team run through them. They should be more than enough to help you solve the mystery."

Sherlock opened the envelope, flipping through the pictures quickly before pinning them to the wall. I glanced at them, seeing nothing but blurry shapes. I looked between the three men in the room before asking, "Have you thought about baiting them?"

"With what?"

"I don't know, a prostitute willing to wear a wire or something?"

Greg scoffed. "You think those women are going to want to work with police? We've made their jobs very difficult for them."

"But surely they must have some sense of self-preservation in them. One of them must be willing to work with you."

"Delilah dear, if this person can sneak up on an agent, subdue them, and kill them, then I highly doubt a prostitute wearing a wire will be sufficient enough to protect them," Mycroft drawled.

I frowned. "There has to be something we can do."

"Yes, it's called getting out and letting me think," Sherlock said. "All of you, get out. I need to go to my Mind Palace."

I sighed. "Sherlock, we're supposed to be working together on this."

"And we will once you give me the time to think!"

"Fine. Both of you, out. I'll keep you updated with what he comes up with."

"But, it's my case!" Greg protested.

"Yes and now it's Sherlock's case. You know how he is Greg. I promise you, I will keep you updated. Try to at least give the women of the night a bit of protection. I know it's difficult, but I'd rather not see anyone else die."

"Fine."

"You. I need to talk to you," I said to Mycroft as he began to walk out the door.

"Whatever for?"

I stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind me. "Why were you trying to hide those photos from Sherlock?"

"I wanted to see if he could solve the case without that sort of aid."

"But why risk it? Don't you want to know who killed your agent?"

"Of course. But I can't expect Sherlock's skills to grow if I baby him constantly." Mycroft sighed. "You're probably right though. If this is a copycat killer, which I'm certain it is, then any evidence that I keep will create the risk that we won't catch this person."

"So…you don't have any ideas at all?"

"Oh, I have a few _ideas_ but nothing concrete. Whoever this person is that's killing these women, they're intelligent and they're not leaving any sign of who they are. It's why the newspapers are calling them the phantom of Jack the Ripper returned." Mycroft shrugged. "More than likely there will be six more victims."

"Do you not care that women are dying?"

"Why should I?"

I shook my head. "Still as cold as always I see."

"Delilah, I don't pretend to be someone I'm not. You should know that. Now, if you'll excuse me-"

Mycroft headed down the stairs, leaving the building. I sat down on the steps, staring out the window. I couldn't help but think that there was something we were missing. I sighed before getting to my feet. I slipped back into the flat, moving silently down the hall to grab my jacket. On a whim, I decided to also grab one of the badges that Sherlock had stolen from Lestrade. It would probably be of use to me at some point or another.

I poked my head around the corner, seeing Sherlock on the couch, eyes closed, fingers pressed together. I grabbed Scarlett's leash, motioning for her to come to me. She got up from beside the couch, trotting over to me.

"Where are you going?" Sherlock asked, opening one eye to glance at me. "She had her walk three hours ago."

"Yes and she's a puppy with lots of energy and a small bladder. We'll be back soon. The weather has cleared up for the most part. I've got my phone on me. Plus I figured you could use the silence while you're contemplating everything."

Sherlock sat up on the couch, staring at me. "Why are you lying?"

"I'm not lying! Why must you always accuse me of doing that?"

"I was only checking to make sure. Go and take Scarlett on a walk." Sherlock laid back down, closing his eyes, no doubt going back to his Mind Palace.

I smiled as I left the flat. That had been easy enough. Scarlett and I trotted down the stairs, but instead of heading out, I went to Mrs. Hudson's, knocking softly. She opened the door and I pressed a finger to my lips. Quickly, I stepped inside and she closed the door quietly behind me.

"Mrs. Hudson, I need your help. Could you keep Scarlett for me for a couple of hours? I'm working on something for Sherlock and I don't want him finding out."

"Of course dear. I love little Scarlett. Has she been let out recently?"

"Three hours ago. You should be able to let her out in the back alley and she'll go by the trashcan. You're absolutely wonderful for this." I pressed a kiss to her cheek. "Thank you so much. I'll bring you down a vanilla cake with orange frosting."

"You don't have to."

"But I will anyway," I chuckled. "Like I said, I'll be back in a couple of hours."

"See you then dear!"

I left Mrs. Hudson's, heading out of the back door to reduce the chance of Sherlock spotting me. Once I knew I was out of the range of Sherlock's vision, I scrolled through my contacts, hitting the send button on my phone.

"Greg? It's Delilah. I was wondering, could you get me access to the crime scene where the woman's body was found?"

"Sure, for a few minutes. Is Sherlock with you?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"He's still thinking. I'm flying solo right now."

"Alright. I'll meet you over there in fifteen. Can you handle something like this though?"

"We'll see. As everyone keeps pointing out, the more I'm around Sherlock, the more like him I become. Now, where is the crime scene?"

"Holland Park."

"I'll be there in fifteen."

* * *

When I arrived at the park, Greg was pulling up to the curb, Donovan in the passenger seat. They both got out and I stood there impatiently, looking out over the police tape. There had been other officers already looking at the crime scene, but I had wanted to wait for Greg. I nodded to both of them as they approached.

"Well well, if it isn't Mrs. Freak. Should've known that you'd be like him, wanting to look at the crime scene."

I rolled my eyes. "Surprised they let you out in the daytime Donovan. I would think that you'd be busy sleeping so that you could join your sisters of the night."

"Oh, you think you're so clever do you? Comparing me to some common whore? At least I'm not a thief!"

"No, just someone who helps a man cheat on his wife."

"Ladies, behave," Greg warned, stepping between us. "I will not have you two fighting and acting unprofessional on my crime scene. Is that understood?"

"Yes sir. Sorry sir," Donovan muttered, shooting me a glare before ducking under the tape.

I sighed. "I suppose. Now, how was she found?"

"In the grass under a tree. A couple of runners found her very early yesterday morning. Thought she was drunk until one of them tried to shake her shoulder and her arms fell off." I shuddered. "It wasn't a pretty sight. She was separated limb by limb. We sent the pieces over to Molly for analysis obviously."

"Of course." I walked beside him, spotting the area where the woman had been found. I paused. "Where's all the blood?"

"Sorry?"

"The blood? You know, the red stuff inside of our bodies that tends to come out when we're cut open? Did you all already do a blood spatter analysis and wash it away?"

Greg looked at me, confused. "I mean, there are a few spots around."

I shook my head, grabbing a pair of gloves before approaching the crime scene. "You're talking about these few up against the tree and on the grass?"

"Yes."

"Don't you lot think that there should be more blood than this if she were dismembered?"

"Well...yeah, there should. But-"

My phone began ringing in my pocket and I answered it. "Delilah McKinley."

"So what have you found?" Sherlock asked.

"What do you mean? I told you, I was-"

"I saw you leave by Mrs. Hudson's back door and Scarlett was barking downstairs shortly after you left." I cursed myself silently. "So, what did you find at the scene?"

I knelt down, staring at the imprint in the grass. I glanced around, looking for anything that would help me. "Sherlock, I'm putting you on speaker."

"What's the point?" He said behind me and I turned to look at him, hanging up the call. "So, what have you found?"

"Lack of blood suggests that the woman wasn't killed here. So we're looking for another crime scene. Also, judging by the impressions in the ground, the person we're looking for is smaller as they were struggling with carrying the body. You can tell because their steps were dragging." I stared at the ground. "I think that's it."

"Look closer," Sherlock urged. "There's more. Open your eyes."

' _What else? What else?'_ I thought to myself, taking in the crime scene. _'What am I missing that he can see?'_

"Ah," I murmured, getting to my feet. "There _is_ something missing. Tell me Greg, did they find a dog's corpse this morning with the body."

"A dog? Why would they find a dog with her body?"

"Because she would have had a dog with her wherever she was." I turned to Sherlock. "Am I missing anything else?"

Sherlock scanned down, moving around the area rapidly, touching things and examining them. "You've done pretty well. But you're missing the biggest piece of the puzzle. Our Jack is actually a Jacqueline."

"What? How can you _possibly_ know that?" Greg asked, staring at Sherlock incredulously.

"The ground is soft enough where I can make out a very faint impression in the grass of a footprint. I don't know many men who wear a size three and a half, do you?" Sherlock straightened up. "There were multiple trips made back and forth, so whoever brought the body was too small to carry everything all at once. Also, as Delilah pointed out last night, our prostitute had a proclivity to gravitate towards women as customers."

"Our Jacqueline no doubt knew this. She would have stalked her prey for hours, perhaps even days. To carry out a murder with this much precision would have taken careful time and planning. The problem with the original Jack was that he allowed emotions to get the better of him when killing those women. Had I been alive back then, I no doubt would have discovered his true identity. He was quite sloppy with his work."

Sherlock was starting to work himself up and I watched in awe, trying to learn as much as I could as he paced back and forth, pointing out things that I hadn't seen before. "Because of this attention to detail, we are dealing with a much more dangerous foe than the original serial killer ever was. This person's entire goal is to commit these murders without getting caught. But why? Why commit them? I'll have to ask them when we catch them."

"And how do you plan on doing that?" Greg asked, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Very easily. They made one fatal mistake." Between his fingers, Sherlock held up a single piece of hair. "I know their hair color _and_ their shoe size."

Greg's eyes widened. "Donovan! Donovan, bring an evidence bag over here! We've got a hair!"

"Are you sure that's hers Sherlock?" I asked, inspecting the hair closer as Donovan began to jog over with the bag.

"Well our prostitute from last night had black hair with silver and this hair is clearly blonde. Plus there is a very faint trace of blood on the end of it. I don't think that it's our victim's blood either." Sherlock placed the hair in the bag. "Our serial killer was wounded, more than likely attacked by the dog. Perhaps we can find some blood on the ground."

We all began to comb through the grass and I was beginning to give up hope when I spotted it. A single drop of blood on the dirt between the pavement of the path and the grass. "Sherlock. Sherlock, I've got blood!"

"Let me see," Sherlock said, nudging me to the side as he knelt down. "So, two mistakes in one night. I don't think that our killer was counting on the dog. Lestrade, Delilah and I will be back. Keep combing for more blood."

Sherlock began to walk down the path and I could tell that he was looking for more droplets of blood. We were led out onto the street and I spotted a small streak of blood on a light pole. I tugged on Sherlock's sleeve, pointing it out. He approached it, inspecting it closely.

"Do you remember what side the dog was on?"

I closed my eyes. "The left. You don't remember?"

"I do. I was testing you. So, if the dog was on her left side when she was walking, that means that our killer is injured on the right side. Judging by the shoe size and the height of the blood on this lamp post, our killer is no more than a meter and a half tall. They'll either have a wound to their arm or their shoulder, depending on where exactly the dog bit them."

"So we're looking for a blonde woman who's a bit shorter than me with an injured right arm or shoulder?"

"Yes."

"Anything else you can give me to go on? There has got to be hundreds of women who fit that description."

"The blonde is dyed, the woman young. She's got a slight build, it's why she was struggling to carry the body. But, she's probably an athlete of some kind if she can fight off a dog that size and still commit the murder and hide the pieces. She'd have to have extraordinary discipline to ignore the pain that she was in." Sherlock frowned. "We need to go and look at the bodies."

"You feel free. I'm going back to the flat."

Sherlock looked up at me, a grin on his face. "What's the matter? Can't handle a dead body?"

"I can," I said defensively. "I just don't want to right now."

"You're scared. It's fine. Completely understand. Dead bodies aren't everyone's-"

I threw a hand out, hailing a cab. I got in. "Saint Bartholomew's please."

The ride was silent and I kept shooting glares at Sherlock. I knew he was gloating at the victory. While I didn't want to see the bodies, I knew that I would have to if I was going to learn to be like Sherlock. This was all part of the world I'd decided to join.

We arrived at the hospital and Sherlock was out of the cab like a shot. I paid quickly, thanking the driver before running off after him. I nearly bumped into John on the way down to the morgue.

"Delilah! What are you all doing here? I didn't think you two were coming to visit."

"We aren't. Sherlock and I are on a case." I began to walk away when John grabbed my arm. "What?"

"You two are on a case together?"

"Aye. You know that he and I planned on working cases together."

"Can I come?"

I frowned. "I mean...you can...but what about Mary and the baby?"

"Oh. Right." Now it was John's turn to frown. "Well...hmmm…"

"I'll send you pictures."

His face lit up. "Really? You will?"

I nodded, smiling. "Of course. We could use the help. That and we still need to keep our blogger up to date."

I began to take off after Sherlock again when John called, "What's the name of the case?"

"Jacqueline the Ripper!" I shouted, running down the hallway.

I finally caught up with Sherlock as he was halfway down the hall to the morgue. "Have a nice chat with John?"

"You knew I'd get intercepted?"

"It's nearly supper. Mary would have sent John to go and get something to eat as John probably hasn't left her side all day." Sherlock pushed open the door and I glanced around him to see Molly hunched over a body on the table. "Molly! I hope you've found something of interest!"

"Sherlock! I...I wasn't...how did you…" She took a deep breath. "How...how have you been?"

"Better now that I have a case to work on." He approached the table, motioning for me to step beside him. "Molly, Delilah will be assisting me on this case."

"Oh really? I didn't know that you two were working cases together."

"Thought that I should learn what it is that makes Sherlock tick," I replied, offering her a small smile.

"Molly, what have you found so far? Cause of death? Time of death?"

"Cause of death was blood loss. The killer stabbed her in the throat before cutting her body into pieces. Time of death occurred between two and three in the morning. There is some bruising to her temple, as well as to her left palm and wrist." Molly showed us all of the bruising. "Also, there was something rather strange about the incisions Sherlock."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, they're different on every corpse. It's so odd and I can't make much of it."

Sherlock's eyes lit up as he inspected the wound. "Do you have the other bodies?"

"Stored away, yes."

"Pull them all out. I want to look at them."

Molly moved to the lockers, but I continued to inspect the woman on the table. I was trying to look at it in a clinical sense, but I couldn't help remembering how her face lit up when I'd mentioned how pretty her eyes were. I felt pity for the woman, even though I'd only met her once. She had to have been scared.

I stepped back, closing my eyes, going to my Library. I'd been able to start accessing it again. It had been difficult a few weeks ago when I'd been healing and distracted. But now I stood in front of the table, the scene from the other night playing out in front of me. I froze it as I watched her walking towards me with the dog.

"German shepherd, female. Glances up at her from time to time to make sure she's alright." I inspected the image closer. "Sherlock was right, I should have been able to tell that she was a prostitute by the way she was dressed. Now, let's play spot the differences."

I pulled up a side by side comparison, staring at the corpse of the woman and the woman from the park. It was hard to believe that they were the same person. I shuddered, but kept myself calm.

"Bruises on her wrist and palm, no doubt from the dog lunging at her attacker. The coloring of the bruises are very dark." I zoomed in on the bruises. "Had to have been a very violent pull then. That would mean her attacker got within a short distance. So she knew the attacker."

" _ **What's she doing Sherlock?" Molly whispered from far away.**_

" _ **Thinking."**_

" _ **Yes, but why is she pacing around like that?"**_

" _ **I don't know. This was the first victim, correct?"**_

" _ **Yes."**_

I blocked them out, picturing the scene of the woman's death. "She wasn't killed in the park. I know that much. So she must have just gotten home with the dog or was on her way when she was killed. She shortens the leash, telling her dog to sit or to be on guard. It's why she kept the leash so tight around her wrist and in her hand. The killer must have stopped to chat with her and begun to attack her." I glanced up at the scene in the park and froze when I saw the woman walking in, pausing at the entrance. "No. I'm _wrong_. Of course! It all makes sense now."

I felt myself jerk back into the morgue, freezing mid-step. "Sherlock."

"Busy."

"Sherlock, this is important."

"Delilah, I am busy," he said, examining the body in the middle. "It looks like our killer is experimenting with how to hide their tracks. If you look at the first body it's very hack-and-slash. But the more we go up the line, the neater and cleaner the killings get. Oh, it's all-"

"Sherlock, the killer is the woman at the entrance to the park. Her pimp or handler as you called her."

Sherlock and Molly both stopped their inspection and Sherlock straightened up, staring at me curiously. "How do you know?"

"I...went back into my Library and saw it."

"What did you see?"

"A woman, slight of frame, pale blonde hair. Obviously, from that distance I couldn't see her feet or whether she was athletic or not. But it's the logical step. Handler goes somewhere private with the woman at the end of the night and our victim no doubt thought that it was to collect the money. But the killer wanted more than money. She wanted her life." I was growing more and more excited as I spoke. "The dog wasn't told to attack. She couldn't have been because as soon as they got back to wherever they'd gone, the killer stabbed her. The dog sensed that the owner was in distress and pulled the leash hard, leaving the bruises on the wrist and hand."

"Yes, but where?"

"Well, obviously not at the victim's flat. Greg and the others would have already searched it for clues. So wherever they were holed up for the night. Are there any dog-"

"Friendly hotels in the area?" Sherlock held up his phone. "Yes. And housekeeping found a very bloody bathroom at that hotel. Lestrade text me. Molly!" The woman jumped at Sherlock's voice. "Tell me if you find anymore variations on the bodies and cuts."

Sherlock was flying out of the room and I paused for a second. "Molly, would you mind sending pictures of the body to John? I completely forgot. Thanks! I'll text you later about when we're going shopping for bridesmaid dresses!"

I ran after Sherlock, struggling to keep up with him. "So, was I right?"

"Perhaps. We'll know more when we get to the murder scene."

The cab ride over was a tense one and I was beginning to tremble with excitement. I was hoping that I was right. I didn't want to disappoint Sherlock. He was staring out of the window at the city passing by. For one brief moment I wanted to know what was going through that brilliant mind of his. I opened my mouth to ask him but then hesitated. I'd made that mistake once before when I'd first arrived and it had made me want to hit the man.

"You want to know what I'm thinking, don't you?"

"I decided against it."

"Why? Aren't you interested in the case?"

"I am. But I'm also trying to solve it on my own."

I could see his smirk in the reflection of the window. "I have the same theory you do."

My heart began to race in my chest. "W-what?"

"The woman at the entrance to the park. She was the right height, the right build and hair color. I wanted to see what you thought first though before I gave you my theory." Sherlock continued to look out the window. "You're learning."

I was smiling to myself as we pulled up to the hotel. Sherlock held up the tape as I ducked under and I led the way, feeling the eyes of officers on us. I swallowed hard, feeling my throat go dry suddenly. Sherlock took the lead once we cleared the lobby and I followed him up the stairs. Two officers blocked our way and I decided, on a whim, to pull the badge out of my pocket, flashing it quickly.

"He's with me. Now let us through." They looked at us suspiciously. "Either let us through or I'll be speaking to your commanding officer!"

The two men stepped aside, shifting uncomfortably as I walked by. Greg and Donovan were in the room along with a few forensic investigators. They looked surprised by our arrival.

"How'd you get past the officers?" Donovan demanded, frowning. "We told them not to let anyone through until we cleared the scene."

I tossed the badge to Greg, watching as he caught it. "You should probably keep a better eye on your badges."

His eyes widened. "Y-you used my badge to-"

"Any witnesses?" Sherlock asked, tugging gloves onto his hands. "Or do we only have camera footage from the hallway?"

Greg was still shaking his head as Sherlock began to inspect the scene. "You two...you two are impossible."

"Oh, would you get over it already Lestrade?" Sherlock snapped. "We have the murder of the century at our fingertips and you can only focus on the fact that we used your badge? Get over it and _focus_!"

I jumped as Sherlock snapped, looking at him. The others in the room seemed to ignore his outburst. Judging by their reactions, I assumed that this sort of outburst was usual for Sherlock on a case. He knelt down in front of the dead dog and I knelt down beside him, inspecting it.

"Small blade, straight edge. No doubt the same blade that they used on our victim." He pulled the fur aside to reveal the wound. "It's messy, unlike the clinical cuts on the woman. So our killer was caught off guard. There are several other wounds to the torso, suggesting a struggle."

"Which would make sense if the dog attacked her. But how would she have snuck the body out without being noticed? And with her bleeding everywhere as well. That's not a small dog that attacked her. People would have noticed someone wounded like that trying to carry something large and heavy."

Sherlock glanced up at me. "Look...I need you to go. I have to think."

"But...I thought we were working together!"

"And we are. But I need to process this and there are already too many people here. Go and stand out in the hall. I'll talk to you when I've processed everything." He pressed a quick kiss to my cheek. "I will keep you informed. I just need time."

I sighed, getting to my feet. "Fine. But you'd better keep me in the loop Sherlock."

I left the room, going to stand awkwardly out in the hall. Donovan stepped out next to me. "He kicked you out too, huh?"

I nodded. "I suppose that's what he does, isn't it?"

"Yeah...look, about earlier. I wanted to apologize." I blinked at her, confused. "About calling you Mrs. Freak?"

"Oh. Yeah. That. Totally forgot about it honestly."

"Listen, I tried telling Sherlock about this website, but he didn't want to hear what I had to say." She scrolled through her phone before flashing me the website. "It's what a lot of the prostitutes are using now. Go on here, post a profile, find a 'keeper'. Think of it as a pimp matching website. You choose the person you think you'll fit best with and then you begin working with them. They obviously get a part of your profits, but you get all of the customers that they can generate."

"What's the name of this site?" I asked, taking it from her, scrolling through it. "And did you find our victim on there?"

"I found all four of our victims on there actually. And the site is called Ladies of the Night. Anyone can join and you're paired right away based on your profile and experience."

"Hmm." I frowned, scrolling through. "Donovan, will you tell Sherlock that I've gone home?"

"Sure. But why are you leaving?"

"I've got things that I need to take care of."

I walked away, taking the stairs two at a time. As I did, I hit the browser button on my phone, typing in the web address. I hit the create button, hoping that I was making the right decision.

' _New to this. Average height, slim build, shoulder length red hair, brown eyes. 28 years of age. Hoping to find someone experienced to help me. Would prefer someone about my height and age. Please private message me if interested; your pic gets mine. Can work starting tonight.'_

I hit the create button. Now it was only a matter of waiting.

* * *

I sat down on the living room floor, Scarlett crawling all over my lap, licking at my face as I stared up at the photos. I could see it now. The hoodie that the woman from last night had been wearing, a glimpse of blonde hair. If all of the victims had used her, then it would make sense as to why she was able to get so close to the agent. I jumped when I heard the door to the flat open and Sherlock walked in.

"So? How did it go?" I asked.

"They're all idiots. Lestrade was still hung up on the fact that you had one of his badges and Donovan kept rattling on and on about this website. I could care less. I highly doubt that our killer will be using it anymore." He sat down in his chair, glaring at the wall. "Have you come up with anything yet?"

"Not really," I said, leaning back to look at the wall once more. "I mean, there's no pattern to it. She's not in any one area. Did the DNA results come back yet?"

"No. Mycroft said he won't have those back for another day or so. They're running it through every database they have access to." I could feel Sherlock's eyes on me. "You're wearing make-up."

I felt my cheeks flush. "Yes."

"Why?"

"Oh, well, I was going to surprise you." I got up from the floor, crossing to kneel in front of his chair, taking his hand. "I realized yesterday that we missed celebrating Valentine's Day. And I wanted to do something for you to thank you for rescuing me a year ago."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "So you wanted to be sentimental while we're working on a case. Can't this wait until after?"

I pouted, going to straddle him in the chair. His hands gripped my hips. "It could I suppose. But I'm half-way ready now. It's only dinner, nothing too over-the-top."

Sherlock sighed, but did nothing to fight me off as I kissed the side of his neck. I continued this for a few moments before I pulled back, pressing a kiss to his lips. He returned the kiss and I watched as his eyes fluttered closed. As they did, I took my chance. I grabbed the small syringe I'd hidden off of the table, stabbing it into Sherlock's neck. He pushed me away, grabbing at the spot where I'd injected him.

"I'm sorry Sherlock," I murmured as he struggled to form words, staring up at me in surprise. "I have to do this alone and I can't have you messing it up." I pulled my phone out, showing him the picture of the woman. "You were wrong. She's still using the site. And now I'm going to bait her out. Irene will keep an eye on you. We're getting our Jacqueline tonight before she can kill again."

I pressed a kiss to his forehead and he struggled to grab for me, his arm flopping to the side. Irene stepped into the room and I got off of Sherlock. Together we lowered him down onto the floor, keeping him on his side. Scarlett whined, licking at his hand before curling up next to him.

"Tell him I'm sorry when he wakes up."

"I will," Irene murmured. "Didn't think you had it in you to do this sort of thing, especially not to him."

"If it means that women won't die then I'm okay with it. Now, what all do I need to wear for this?"

Irene smiled. "I've already got your outfit picked out for you. It's sitting on the bed. I've told my contact at the website to keep you as unavailable tonight to potential clients. But our killer won't know that."

I nodded. "Fantastic. I'm set to meet her in about an hour and a half. I'll go and get ready. You remember the plan?"

"Yes. And when Sherlock comes around I'll tell him which hotel and the room number. Hopefully by that time you'll already have her in custody."

I got to my feet, staring down at Sherlock's still form. "He's going to hate me for this."

Irene looked up at me, a smile on her lips. "No, he won't. He's going to be impressed by it. I've learned a lot over the years I've known him and one of the biggest things is that anyone who can trick him impresses him. I'll keep an eye on him. It was a half dose, so you should have a couple of hours at least to get what you need."

"Thank you. I'll keep you up to date."

I went down the hallway, quickly pulling on the dress that Irene had set out. It was very skimpy and the undergarments underneath were even more so. I wrinkled my nose but put them on. I took one last glance in the mirror before heading out the door. As I walked out, I grabbed Sherlock's coat from the hook, throwing it over my shoulders before I left.

I could only hope that Sherlock would forgive me for what I'd done.

* * *

"Strip."

"I'm sorry?"

"I said strip. You want me to sell the goods then you need to show me what I'm working with."

I hesitated, closing the door behind me. "We've only just met and you're already asking-"

"Strip or I walk away. You wanna make money or not?"

"Fine." I shrugged out of the coat before undoing the back of the dress. The woman on the bed farthest from me hadn't even turned yet to look at me. "I'm done if you'd like to look."

The woman glanced over her shoulder at me. "You'll do. A bit on the skinny side, couple of blemishes, but I've got a few clients that would be interested."

I nodded. "Can I put my dress back on please?"

"Sure." The woman turned back to the window. "What's your name?"

"Gwenivere," I lied, trying to keep myself calm as I tugged the dress back up, zipping it quickly. "Yours?"

"I don't give people my name. I'm your handler for the night. We're going to make some good money." She got up from the bed and I noted that she only used her left arm to help herself up. "Now, what do you know how to do?"

"To do?"

I could tell that my question irritated her, but I knew that I had to make her think that I was new to the entire idea of prostitution and that I hadn't spent a good portion of the afternoon asking Irene questions.

I reached into the pocket of Sherlock's jacket, hitting the call button to Greg. "Yes. Are you good at oral? You ever done anal? You prefer men or women?"

"Oh! Okay. Erm...well this is a bit embarrassing." I sat down on the bed, crossing my legs, watching her closely. "I'm...I'm still a virgin."

Her eyes lit up. "A virgin? You mean you've never been with anyone before?"

"No. Never. I was trying to save myself, but I'm very poor. I used what little money I had to buy this dress and I stole the coat." I was trying my best to hint that I had no one that would miss me or come looking for me. Judging by how happy she was growing, it was working. "I heard a friend of mine at work mention something about this website and I decided to give it a try. You seemed like a nice enough person."

"Oh yes. Very nice. You are perfect for me." She turned to give me a smile. "Well, I should probably tell you then that I need to break in new merchandise."

I felt my face grow warm. "What do you mean?"

"Come here and I'll show you."

I approached her cautiously and she grabbed me by my hands, jerking me against her. I could tell by that one pull that she was very strong. My eyes widened and I wanted to flinch away from her touch as she reached up to grab my breasts. Instead I stood there, watching and waiting.

"Yes...perfect. Go and lay down on the bed." I did as she asked, laying down on the bed on the right. "Good. Good. Spread your legs for me. One hand on your breast, one hand- yes, just like that."

The woman was reaching into her jacket pocket with her right hand and I could see the glint of metal. I stared up at the ceiling, waiting for the right moment. She began to approach me and I sat up quickly.

"So...tell me, how does it feel to be a serial killer?"

The woman froze, a strange look coming over her face. "I'm sorry?"

I slipped out of my heels, running my fingers through my hair. "Murderer of the century. Jack the Ripper. How does it feel to have that label?"

The woman chuckled, producing a straight edge razor. "Ah yes. Very good. Surprised Scotland Yard caught on this quickly. Knew I made a mistake picking that bitch from last night. Thought I'd be able to kill her stupid dog without getting bitten." She pulled the collar of her shirt down, revealing her shoulder swathed in bandaging. "That's alright though. You're not wearing a wire. So my guess is you decided to try and get a promotion at work by capturing the serial killer yourself."

I shrugged, holding up my hands. "You caught me. No weapon, no wire. So why don't we have a little chat? I'd at least like to know how you came to the decision to become a copycat. I'd also like to know your name. We're friends, right? In this moment at least?"

She sat down on the other bed, still smiling, blade in her hand. "I suppose we are. You know, all the others begged for their lives."

"I'm not like all the others. You tell me your name I'll tell you mine."

"My name is Britney. Britney Albiston. Yours?"

"Delilah."

"Pleasure to meet you. Now, what was your other question?"

"How did you come to the decision to be a copycat? Especially a copycat of Jack the Ripper."

"The fame of course. Or infamy as people who work for the police would put it. I wanted to prove that I could do it, especially in the age of Sherlock Holmes." I saw a look of desire come into her eyes. "To trick the world's greatest consulting detective will make my life worth living. I knew he wasn't dead you know. I knew it in my heart. There was no way that Moriarty would be able to fool him."

"So you created all of this to get his attention?"

"That's part of it. The other part is I like killing. And who better to learn from than the man who was never caught? I had nothing against any of these women. It just seemed easier to kill them than anyone else." Britney chuckled as she continued to stare at me with those flat blue eyes. "I mean, most of them have no family, no friends. They're easy targets. Some of them I killed the first night I met them and some of them I waited. Ophelia especially. That's the woman from last night if you didn't know."

"Didn't know her name, no. I have seen her body. That was quite nice handiwork, those incisions. Where'd you learn to make such neat cuts?" I was trying to stall for time, get as much information out of her as I could. I knew we needed as much evidence as we could get. "It takes a steady hand and skill to be able to cut so neatly."

She got to her feet, beginning to pace. I could tell that I was agitating her. "Why are you asking all these questions. What does it matter to you?"

"I'm a detective. I'm curious by nature."

The woman froze, staring at me. "Empty your pockets."

"What?" I got to my feet, watching as she began to tremble with rage.

"Empty your fucking pockets or I'm going to slit your throat where you stand!" She shrieked and I complied, taking out the receipts and the small wad of cash I had on me. I hesitated when I wrapped my fingers around the phone. "I swear to God, I will kill you without giving you your answers."

I sighed, taking the phone out of my pocket, tossing it onto the bed. "That's it. Nothing more."

She grabbed the phone, trying to unlock it a couple times before tossing it back onto the mattress. "Unlock it."

"Why?"

"Unlock it so I can see who it was you called! Who was listening?"

"Me." We both froze at Sherlock's voice. "I've been listening for the past twenty minutes. So, you're a fan of mine, are you?"

Britney's eyes went wide. "Y-you're...how…"

"Probably should have mentioned," I said softly, watching as she stared down Sherlock. "Sherlock Holmes is my fiancé."

She turned on me. "You fucking bitch."

The woman swung with the blade and the entire world slowed down. I took a stance against her, ducking under the blade before reaching up, grabbing her arm and driving my knee up into her stomach. As she doubled over, I slammed my elbow into her shoulder, forcing her to drop the blade. But Britney was fast and she managed to catch me across the face with a wild left hook. We went tumbling to the floor and I thought I had her pinned when she wrestled free of my grasp, delivering a kick to my rib cage as she got to her feet.

I gasped for air, feeling like a fish out of water. I could hear fighting behind me and I managed to turn in time to see Sherlock slamming a lamp into the side of her temple. She slumped forward, tumbling to the floor in a heap. I got to my feet shakily, straightening the hem of my dress as Greg and Donovan stormed in with several other officers. They looked at the unconscious form at Sherlock's feet.

"What did you two do?"

"Well, she came at me with the blade so I disarmed her. She kicked me in the ribs, momentarily incapacitated me, and then Sherlock hit her across the temple with the lamp." I looked to Donovan, who was kneeling next to the woman. "You may want to handcuff her before she wakes. She's strong as all hell and she won't hesitate to attack. Did you bring the clothes like I asked?"

"Out in the hall."

I exited the room, letting Greg and Donovan explain the plan we'd come up with to Sherlock. I grabbed the bag of clothes, going down to the room that the officers had been staying in. I locked myself in the bathroom, changing quickly, putting the dress into the bag. I had no doubt that they would want it for evidence as she had touched me.

I left as quick as I'd come, jumping at the sight of Sherlock standing outside of the room door. "Jesus Christ. You scared me."

"We need to talk."

I felt my heart begin to sink. "What about?"

He grabbed me by the arm, leading me down the stairs and outside. I shivered as the cold February air hit me and I realized that Sherlock had gotten his coat back from the detectives. "Look, Sherlock, I-"

The detective grabbed me, pulling me against him, kissing me. I wrapped my arms around his waist, enjoying the kiss. When he pulled me away, he was smiling. "Don't ever do that again."

"Do what?" I asked, keeping my arms wrapped around his waist.

"Drug me and then go and solve the crime on your own. I could have kept a secret like that."

I smiled slowly. "You mean...you're not angry?"

"No, not at all. You took initiative to solve the case. I only wish I could have been there for the big reveal."

"So...did you figure out who it was?"

"Yes. When I came to, they had gotten a hit in the database on her DNA. Colleen Marie Carpenter, born to Samuel and Eleanor Carpenter in March of 1990. Diagnosed with dissociative identity disorder in 2008. Believed herself to be a reincarnation of Jack the Ripper. Obviously delusional. She was charged with aggravated assault four years ago after attacking her grandmother. Disappeared after serving her sentence." Sherlock began to walk down the street and I followed after him. "Before she was diagnosed, she was an athlete. She played football, lacrosse, and she was also a swimmer."

"How did she learn to cut into people like that? And what caused her to have the disorder in the first place?"

Sherlock smiled. "What's your theory?"

"I don't know...her parents were doctors?"

"One was a doctor, yes. The other was a mortician. So the woman was around medicine and death her entire childhood. One day she came home from school to find her father in bed with another woman, a prostitute he had hired. He locked her in the bedroom closet when her mother came home and found her father with the other woman. Killed both of them in cold blood and then shot herself. Records say that when police had gotten there three days later, she was sitting in the pools of blood, playing in it."

I shuddered. "That's awful."

"I suppose." Sherlock stopped at the corner, taking my hand. "She hated the prostitute for killing her family and that became her motive for the killings. Some part of her remembered that her father was a doctor and that he had encouraged her to study medicine. That was how the delusion of her being a reincarnation formed. She was studying medicine before attacking her grandmother, no doubt learning what she needed to before she was kicked out of medical school."

"But how did she hide the murders so well?"

"Oh, you know, anyone can look up anything on the internet these days." We began to walk again. "No doubt she studied the cases and everything that she could get her hands on. Add into that her obsession with beating me and she would have been unstoppable. That is, if she hadn't been attacked by the dog."

"Are you admitting that it would have been an unsolved case Mr. Holmes?" I teased and he glanced down at me, smirking.

"Do you really think that I would have let the case of the century go unsolved?" He leaned down to whisper in my ear, "I am glad that you intervened Lila."

"Why is that? You're never happy when someone intervenes on your cases."

"Because there would have been another woman killed tonight. Irene found out that there was another woman that Colleen was working with. If you hadn't posted the profile, she would be dead."

I blushed. "Oh. Well, I guess she's very welcome. So…case closed?"

"Case closed."

"Good." I smiled up at him. "You know, I'm still wearing the lingerie that Irene picked out for me."

"Oh, are you now?" Sherlock murmured. "And what would it cost me to see it on you tonight?"

I chuckled. "Only your heart Mr. Holmes."

"I'll pay that price Ms. McKinley. Every day until the end."


	6. Chapter 6: Surprise Visit

***Hello lovelies! Sorry, I was really trying to get this out earlier, but I started replaying Mass Effect. My bad! Darn video games, so distracting. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this chapter. As always, let me know what you think. There's three more chapters until the big day and I am sooo excited to write the wedding (and the honeymoon!) and I can't wait for you guys to read it. Hope you guys enjoy and I will see you in the next chapter! Thank you again for reading!***

 **Chapter 6: Surprise Visit**

"And you're empty!" I said loudly, kneeling next to Maximus. He looked up at me, eyes wide. I noted the barely contained excitement on his face and I smiled.

"Can I shoot again?!"

"Yes, you may. But first, how do we set our gun down when we aren't using it?"

He quickly set it down, looking at me expectantly. I nodded, producing another magazine, this one empty. "I'm going to show you how to fill this and then you can fill it while I take a few shots, alright? Just make sure that you stay behind me."

Max nodded. "Of course. Thank you again for taking me with you!"

"I did promise you that I would take you one day. You're having fun?"

"Yes! Of course I am!"

"Good. Hopefully your sister is having as much fun with Sherlock."

"She probably is. She said something about having a tea party with him." I chuckled at the idea of Sherlock having a tea party. "Will you show me now?"

I took out the box of bullets from my bag and I showed him with a couple of bullets. "You'll probably find it difficult, but don't give up. Once you get eight bullets in there, we'll shoot your next round. Part of firing a gun is being able to load it yourself. The other part is after you're done shooting you have to clean the gun. I'll show you how to do that when we get back to the flat."

"How long are we staying with you Delly?"

I grinned at the sound of the nickname he and Maddie had decided to give me. It wasn't as bad as Sherlock's. Maddie had called him Lock and despite Sherlock's best efforts to correct her, the nickname was sticking.

"Tonight and most of the day tomorrow I believe. You all have to go back to school on Monday," I answered. "But we'll be down to see you two on your Easter holiday."

I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket as I began to load my own magazine. I set the magazine down on the table, taking the phone out. I burst out laughing as I opened the message.

 _ **Delly! Look at what Lock and I are doing! Doesn't he look lovely?**_

In the message was a picture of a visibly distressed Sherlock forcing a smile, a tiara in his hair and blue eyeshadow on his eye-lids. Maddie was next to him, a gleeful grin on her face as she pressed a kiss to his cheek. I could see Scarlett's tail blurred in the bottom right corner. I showed Max the picture and he fell into a fit of giggles. I began to text them back.

 _ **Very lovely. Keep up the good work and tell Lock that we'll be home in a couple of hours and I'll order a pizza. Sound good? –DM**_

 _ **Yay! Pizza!**_

"What's going on here?" Greg asked as he entered the range and I straightened up, trying to hide my grin. "You didn't mention anything about bringing a trainee with you today."

"Sorry Greg. I meant to say something, but it was sort of last minute. My mother came into town to visit and she and her husband had planned a romantic weekend for themselves. So Sherlock and I are keeping Max and Maddie." I looked at him. "If you don't kick us out, I have something to show you."

Greg raised an eyebrow and I saw out of the corner of my eye as Max struggled to get the third bullet in. "And what would that be?"

I showed him the picture and he began to roar with laughter. He wiped at the corners of his eyes as he finished. I calmly finished loading my magazine as he laughed.

"Alright, you all can stay. But I expect that message to be forwarded to me. I'm making it my background picture on my phone."

I grinned. "Of course. I'm forwarding it now."

I not only forwarded it to Greg, but I also sent it to John, Mary, Mycroft, Molly, and Irene. I put my phone in the bag after that, looking down at Max struggling with the last couple of bullets. "Max, how far should I send it out?"

"How far can it go?" He asked excitedly, getting distracted from the task I'd given him.

"I believe it's twenty-five meters."

"Do that then!"

I hit the buttons, sending the target whizzing out to twenty-five meters. I took aim, glancing down at Max, who'd stepped up beside me. "Where do you want me to hit?"

"Head shots and bulls-eyes!"

I smiled. "You think I can do it?"

"I think you can, yeah."

I closed my eyes for a moment before opening them. I quickly pulled the trigger, watching as the target jerked with each shot. I emptied the round before calling the target back. Without a word I pulled it down, kneeling next to Max. He took it from me, inspecting it closely before looking at me, wonder on his face.

"Do you think I'll be as good as you one day?"

"I think you'll be better than me one day," I replied, ruffling his hair. "Now, let's practice. I see you got the bullets into the magazine by yourself."

He nodded. "It was tough, but I did it. Now can we shoot?"

"Of course. Just remember what I taught you." I set the gun down, putting him in front of it, kneeling next to him. "Show me what you've learned."

* * *

"Sherlock! Maddie! We're home!" I opened the door to the flat to find Sherlock sitting on the living room floor in front of the coffee table, Maddie next to him. "Still having your tea party?"

The girl shook her head. "No. Now I'm painting Lock's nails!"

He looked up at me with pain in his eyes and I chuckled. "That is a very lovely shade of pink. But can we clear the table off so that we can have dinner?"

"Yes. Of course we can." Relief washed over Sherlock's face and he got to his feet. "Come on Madeleine, let's clear the table."

The two of them busied themselves with cleaning the table off and I went into the kitchen. I set my bag down on the table, taking out the gun and the bag of cleaning supplies. I made sure the gun was unloaded. Max watched my every move and I couldn't help but smile at him.

"Did you have fun?"

"Loads! That was amazing! Thank you!"

I nodded. "Once dinner's over, I'll teach you how to break down the weapon and clean it."

"Cool!" He watched as I set out all the supplies. "Is it hard?"

"No, only time consuming. Why don't you go and help Sherlock and Maddie? The plates are in the cabinet behind you."

"Alright!" He turned and grabbed plates from the cabinet before going out into the living room.

I shook my head, smiling. I didn't mind having the kids here with us. They were wonderful children and it would do Sherlock some good to be around little ones. I could hear him giving instructions to them to set the table and I shook my head, chuckling. Always the leader.

My phone began to vibrate in my pocket and I took it out, answering it quickly. "Delilah McKinley."

"Hey Del!"

"Hi Mary. How are you doing? How's little Sheryl?"

"Well, John and I were wondering if we could come over with her. She has gotten so big since you last saw her, I can't believe it. She's going to be taller than John in a few months." I heard John shout something in the background and Mary laughed. "So, can we come over?"

"Of course! I've got Max and Maddie for the weekend."

"Oh, is _that_ who did Sherlock's make-up?"

I laughed. "Yes. Pizza will be here in about a half hour or so. See you for dinner?"

"All three of us!"

"I'll let Sherlock know. See you soon."

I hung up the phone, going into the living room. "Sherlock, go and get washed up. Mary and John are coming over with Sheryl for dinner."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "John didn't tell me anything about coming over."

"I know," I replied, watching as Max showed Maddie how to fold napkins. "It was a bit unexpected. But we haven't seen them since the baby was born and that was a month and a half ago."

"I've been busy."

"I know. We all have." Scarlett weaved herself between our legs, looking up at me with a smile on her face. "It'll be nice to have everyone together."

Sherlock sighed. "Fine. I'll go and get this make-up off of my face. Oh, and I owe you."

"For what?"

"Sending that picture out to everyone." A look of mischievous glee entered his eye. "Better watch your back."

He winked at me, disappearing down the hall. "You don't scare me Sherlock!"

"I should," he replied, flashing me a grin before going into the bathroom.

I rolled my eyes, shaking my head to go and join the little ones in the living room. Maddie threw the ball to Scarlett as Max flipped through the book I'd bought him on different kinds of guns. He'd ask me questions from time to time and I'd answer the as best I could. A knock came at the door and I went downstairs, finding the pizza man standing outside.

I paid him quickly, carrying it up to find Max and Maddie on the floor at Sherlock's feet, enthralled by the story he was telling them. I set the pizza down on the table, watching and listening as the children laughed and clapped their hands at Sherlock's grand gestures and facial expressions. Sherlock took a breath from telling his story, glancing up at me.

"I believe dinner is here and you two need to eat."

"Why can't you finish telling the story Lock?" Maddie pouted.

"I'll finish it after dinner. But first, you two need to eat before the pizza gets cold."

Downstairs I heard the door open and familiar footsteps began to come up the stairs. Mary appeared with John behind her, carrying the car seat. I went to them, pressing a kiss to each of their cheeks before taking the carrier from John. John was a little bit apprehensive, but I set it down in front of the couch, carefully unbuckling the baby. I lifted her out, holding her in my arms.

"You're right Mary. She has gotten quite big." Mary smiled, coming to sit next to me as John grabbed a slice of pizza, talking with Max and Maddie. "I think Sherlock and I need to come and visit more often."

"It's fine. I know you both have been working on that case, trying to find Moriarty and-"

"Yes. But we're getting closer I feel. They're planning something, of that there's no doubt." Sheryl stirred in my arms and I began to rock her back and forth slowly to keep her asleep. "Sherlock and I will get them. They're not escaping capture once again."

Mary frowned. "What do you think they're planning on doing?"

"An abduction more than likely. Someone closer to us than Ted. There are three letters left after all." I leaned down, pressing a kiss to Sheryl's forehead, breathing in the scent of baby shampoo and powder. "You should eat something. How have you been? Are you and John enjoying your leave from the clinic?"

Mary grabbed herself a plate and some pizza before sitting down next to me once more. "Its been nice, bonding with Sheryl and having John around to help me. But I do miss working. John's going back next week and then I'll be back a month after that. I'm taking a bit longer to get used to breastfeeding and all that."

I nodded, looking up as Maddie tried to convince Sherlock to continue the story. Max was telling John about how he got to shoot a gun with me and Scarlett was sniffing at the ground around everyone's feet, no doubt looking for scraps. I whistled, pointing to her bed that we kept by the fireplace. She looked up at me before going to her bed, laying down dejectedly. Mary chuckled.

"Never thought I'd see Sherlock with a full flat. Or playing dress up with a little girl."

"Neither did I," I admitted, pulling the blanket around the baby a little tighter. "But there are a lot of things that still surprise me about him. Is he still the same coldhearted person to strangers and colleagues from time to time? Yes. But something in him has changed. I don't know what it is. He has been extraordinarily kind towards Max and Maddie."

"Hmm. Never thought that Sherlock would like domestic life. Is he still working cases?"

"Yeah, he and I still work cases. Haven't found many that interest us, but we've been keeping busy."

"And what about the wedding? Have you all made any more decisions?"

"We've reserved the photographer. Sherlock made sure that he wasn't a murderer." We both chuckled. "Next month will be bridesmaid gown shopping and then in May or June I'll be shopping for my own gown."

"Why are you waiting so long? The wedding is in September!"

"It won't take me long to pick out a gown. If it were up to me, I'd wait until the day before the wedding, save on tailoring and all that." I laughed. "Sherlock's pushing me to get the gown as well. Maybe I should do it the same day we go and get your bridesmaid gowns."

"Do you know what color they're going to be?"

"Either cerulean or sapphire. Sherlock and I agree that blue would be the best color for the three of you to wear."

"And who else is part of your bridal party?"

"Molly and…Irene."

Mary's eyes widened and she looked at me in surprise. "Irene? As in Irene Adler?"

"Aye. She's…well, she and I see a bit more eye to eye now."

Mary, John, and Sheryl stayed until nearly ten-thirty, talking and laughing. Sherlock walked them out as I got the kids ready for bed. They were staying up in John's old room, but I'd told them if they needed anything they could wake me. Maddie was asleep and I carried her up the stairs, tucking her in as Max brushed his teeth and washed his face.

When Sherlock came back up the stairs, I was tucking Max in, cutting off the light and closing the door. I found him sitting in his chair and I knew that he was thinking. I sat down in John's chair across from him, watching him.

"What is it?"

"Hmm?"

"You've got that look on your face. What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Sherlock."

He sighed. "Nothing. Seriously. Its been a long day and I am tired. Why don't we go on to bed?"

I nodded. "Fine. I'm going to take Scarlett on her final walk around the block and then clean my gun. I'll be in bed in a bit."

"I'll be sleeping when you get back."

I snapped my fingers, Scarlett coming to me. Sherlock had been spending what little free time he had training her. She now knew how to sit, beg, lay down, stay, and roll over. He was working on getting her to bring the leash when she had to go out. I snapped it on, slipping into my trainers and a light jacket. I tied up my hair before going down the stairs.

We went for our evening run. I'd made it a habit to go running with her in the morning and in the evening, get out all of her energy. We looped around the block four times before I let myself back into Baker Street. I let her off the leash, watching as she went straight to her bed, laying down.

I cleaned the weapon quickly before I took a quick shower. I entered our bedroom, finding Sherlock asleep. I crawled in next to him, pressing a kiss to his bare shoulder. He turned to look at me, smiling. "Good run?"

"Good enough. Tired Scarlett out."

"Good." He gave me a kiss, pulling me close to him. I snuggled against his chest. "I feel as if I haven't gotten to hold you for a long time."

"Well, I mean, we have been a bit busy Sherlock, what with my working and you on the case. Add to that the wedding, the school, friends, family, and Scarlett, it's no wonder we both aren't crazy from lack of sleep and overtaxing ourselves."

"It's a good thing that neither of us needs a lot of sleep to survive then," he murmured, pressing a kiss to my neck. I shuddered. "Think you can go another hour without sleep?"

I chuckled, looking up at him. "For you? I think I can manage."

"Delly?" I heard a small voice ask from the doorway. "Are you still awake?"

I sighed, whispering to Sherlock, "Later."

I got up from the bed, opening the door to find Maddie and Max standing in the hall, their pillows tucked under their arms. "What's the matter?"

"Maddie had a bad dream and I couldn't sleep. We thought we heard someone moving around."

I motioned for them to step into the room. "It was probably me. I took Scarlett out for a run a little bit ago."

"C'n we sleep with you and Lock tonight? I don't wanna sleep up there," Maddie whimpered, rubbing at her eyes. I could tell that she'd been crying.

"Sure. You two can sleep in here with us. I'll go and get some spare blankets and pillows." I left the room, Sherlock pulling a shirt over his head before following me.

He helped me to set up a small blanket fort for them by the window and they seemed more than happy to help us build. I even let Scarlett sleep in the room with us to keep the kids company. When we were finally finished, I closed the door, locking it.

"We all set?" I asked, looking at the two little ones curled up in their fort, Scarlett inside with them.

"Yes. Thank you Delly," Max said, fluffing Maddie's pillow for her before she lay down. "You and Lock are the best."

"You're welcome," I replied, cutting the light off. "Good night you two."

I rolled over towards Sherlock, who pulled me into his arms once more. He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. "Thank you Sherlock."

"For what?"

"For this. For everything. I…didn't expect you to be so good with children."

I could hear the smirk in his voice. "And why's that?"

"Well…you don't like people."

"I like you. And John. Mary and Molly too. Lestrade is tolerable I suppose."

I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, but you've known all of those people for years."

"Children are different. They haven't become annoying yet. They still want to learn and they're still interested in stories. They're…special."

I smiled. "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Aye. Everything's okay. Goodnight Sherlock."

"Goodnight Lila."

* * *

My mother and Donald came by the next morning to pick up the children and I gave them kisses good-bye, promising them that we'd see each other soon. Maddie had been quite upset about leaving, but Sherlock told her that when we came to see them for Easter he would bring her some nail polish so they could do each other's nails. When they finally left, I collapsed in John's chair, looking at the mess in the living room.

"Well, that was fun."

"Is that what you call it?" Sherlock said, settling in at the desk, going through the blog. I'd finally told him about it and he hadn't seemed too surprised. "I'm probably going to go and run a few tests down at the lab. Do you want to come with me?"

I shook my head. "I have to go down to the store and pick up some dog food for Scarlett, as well as some groceries."

"Will you need help?"

"I should be fine," I replied. "Since when do you offer to help me grocery shop?"

He closed the laptop. "Since I have a feeling that they're going to try planning something and I don't want anything to happen to you again."

"Sherlock, I'll be fine. I have my gun on me at all times now. Plus, what else could they throw at me? It's been very obvious that it's not my time to die." I gave him a smile, but I could tell by the look on his face he was serious. "What do you know that I don't?"

"Nothing. Call it a hunch that the game is about to be on." He got up from the desk, giving me a quick kiss on the cheek. "If you need anything, call me."

"I will."

"I mean it," he said and I looked into his eyes, seeing the worry. "Anything happens, you call me. Don't go gallivanting off on your own. Understood?"

"Yes. Go and do your research. I'll be fine."

I left shortly after Sherlock did, going down to the store, picking up a few things, including some dog treats for Scarlett. I took the cab home, struggling up the stairs with the bags. I froze when I heard Scarlett's low growl inside. I dropped the groceries outside of the door, drawing my weapon before letting myself into the flat. I stared in shock at Olivia sitting in Sherlock's chair, Scarlett cowed into a corner, baring her teeth.

"What are you doing here?"

"Thought I'd stop in for a visit, see how you were doing. Wanted to try and reconcile our relationship." She gestured to the chair in front of her. "Sit. We'll be chatting a while I'm sure."

I didn't move, keeping my gun trained on her. "We have nothing to reconcile."

"Oh, but we do. I'm not asking you again. Put the gun away and _sit._ "

Perhaps it was something in her tone or perhaps it was the fact that all of the hair on the back of my neck was standing on end, but I put the gun back into its holster and sat down. "Why are you here?"

"It's a nice place you've got here. You and Sherlock all holed up, Mary and John bring baby Sheryl over-"

"Don't you talk about that baby!"

She held up her hands, still smiling. "Oh, a bit touchy about that subject are we? Did you not like the present?"

"I swear to God, if you hurt that child-"

Olivia laughed. "I wouldn't _dream_ of hurting baby Sheryl. No, there was someone else I had in mind. You see…Sheryl isn't the only child that holds a place in yours and Sherlock's heart now." I felt the color drain out of my face. "You should be getting a phone call in five…four…three…two-"

My phone began to ring and I snatched it out of my pocket, heart racing. "Who is it?"

"Delilah, it's Mycroft," I could tell by his tone that something was wrong. "Delilah, I don't know how to tell you, but the men we had protecting your family while they were in London…they've been killed. We're searching for your family now, but-"

I hung up the phone, setting it down on the table next to me, hand shaking. "Where are they?"

"Bad phone call?"

"WHERE ARE THEY?!" I shouted, getting to my feet, wrapping my hand around her throat. She stared up at me calmly. "You will tell me where they are or so help me God I will choke the life out of you right now."

Before I could react, Olivia had me on my back, her foot in the center of my chest, a gun pointed at my head. "Getting a bit slow, aren't we sister? Must be old age settling in early. Now, I know who called you and I know what they said. If you want your family to stay alive then you'll have to figure out the puzzle."

"She's your mother too. Please…don't do this."

Olivia laughed, but the sound was cold, emotionless. "I have no family except for Jim. He's the only one who understands me. I'm going to let you up. You put one hand on me and I will have them killed, no questions asked, no chance for you to make amends. It's your choice. Do you kill them to kill me or do you listen to what I have to say and possibly save their miserable lives?"

"I'll listen," I growled and she removed her foot. I got to my feet quickly. "Now, tell me how to find them."

Pulling her phone out of her pocket, she showed me a live video stream. On it were three separate videos, one showing Donald tied up, unconscious, a bomb strapped to his chest, another of my mother, also unconscious, with several red dots on her body. The third showed Max and Madeleine in a room, ankle deep in water. I could see the pipe on the wall dripping water, no doubt cutting on and off to fill the room.

"You bitch," I whispered. "You're going to kill them? Just like that?"

She smiled, closing the stream. "No. I'm going to give you a chance to save them. You have three hours to find them before the bomb goes off, the snipers take their shots, and that room fills with water and drowns the little ones. Jim will be sending you the link to the stream."

"How could you do this?" I felt the tears touch my eyes and I wiped them away impatiently. "Those are children! Those are your _family!_ "

Olivia only laughed, brushing past me as she moved to leave. "I've already told you. I have no family. Three hours. Hope you don't make the same mistakes you did with Ted. Good luck. I'll be in touch."

She left the flat and I heard my phone ping. I looked at the link, clicking on it to see the video feed. The phone began to ring in my hand and I answered it.

"Sherlock, we-"

"I know. I've already spoken to Moriarty."

"Wait, what? But how-"

"He was waiting for me at the morgue. He…he had Molly hostage. He let her go when he knew that I would play the game. I'm guessing you've seen the video feed?"

"Yes. We have to find them Sherlock."

"Three hours isn't a lot of time."

"Sherlock, they're my family!" I shouted, the tears coming once again. "We have to do _something!_ "

"I didn't say I wasn't going to do anything. Mary and John are on their way over. Mycroft has his men combing the city already for them. We'll get them back. But…don't be surprised if one of them doesn't live."

I felt my lower lip tremble. "We at least have to save the children. Max and Maddie…they…they can't…"

"I'll be home soon. Keep calm until then. Try to see what you can figure out from your feed."

I sat down in the chair, staring at the videos. My mother was the first of the adults to regain consciousness and she struggled against her bindings. I realized in horror that I could hear everything and her sobs ripped through my heart. My gaze flipped to Maddie and Max, huddled in a corner, Maddie wrapped in Max's arms.

I grabbed my headphones off of the desk, plugging it into the headphone jack, shoving them in my ears. I double tapped the one with the kids, watching as it took up the entire screen.

"Max, I'm scared," Maddie cried. "Where's mummy and daddy?"

"They're looking for us. I'm sure. Don't be scared. I'm not going to let anything happen to you." He pulled her tight against him as water began to gush into the room. Now they were up to mid-calf. "We'll be alright. Delly and Lock will come and get us."

I backed out, clicking on my mother's screen. I closed my eyes, listening closely. All I could hear was her shouting. "You sons of bitches, let me out of here! God damn you! God damn you all to hell! Olivia! Olivia, I know that you're behind this. Let me go! Let me go damn it!"

I switched to Donald's. He was still unconscious and all that I could hear was the soft beeping of the vest's timer on his chest. I held my breath, trying to find any sort of hint as to where they could be from the sounds around them. Someone touched my shoulder and I jerked up, swinging. John caught my arm, ripping the headphones from my ears.

"It's us. It's us," John reassured and I put in one headphone, listening to the videos again. "Are you still watching?"

"Of course."

"Any ideas?" Mary asked as she walked into the room.

"No." I replied, settling back down into my chair. "Not a single clue and it's pissing me off. They had this prepared for a while now, I can tell. Where's the baby?"

"With Mrs. Hudson. Mycroft sent a couple men over in case they decide to go after her."

"Fat lot of good that'll do," I grumbled, noting Mary and John's look of surprise. "Who the hell do you think was watching my family?"

"We'll get them back," John said and I glared at him.

"You mean like how I got Ted back?"

"You can't think like that," Mary murmured, taking my hand. "We'll get them back."

"They're murderers Mary. I have to be more than a bit cynical in this position."

"No need," Sherlock said from the doorway. "I've gotten it down to three buildings that they could be held in."

I looked up at Sherlock with wide eyes. "You have? Really?"

"Yes, really. I've only been listening to Donald's video. In it I heard running water, the faint rumble of a train, and the sounds of traffic." I felt my mouth opening in shock. "That means that they are more than likely in an abandoned building by the river that is close to both the underground and a high area of traffic. That leaves only three possible locations. Another abandoned warehouse, an old laboratory that is still up for sale, and an abandoned meat packaging plant."

"What are we waiting for then? Let's go!"

"There's nowhere to go. Lestrade has sent men to each place and-"

His phone began to go off as did mine. I answered quickly. "Yes?"

"Delilah dear, did you really think that we would let anyone but you and Sherlock help?" Moriarty crooned in my ear. I glanced up at Sherlock, who stepped into the kitchen to take his call. "Now look what you've done. Caused such a mess for our detective inspector. Oh, there goes another one."

"What are you doing?" I growled.

"Only swatting down the flies. Call them off and no more will die." I looked up at Sherlock again, watching his face pale, John and Mary listening in on his call. "Is he speaking with Lestrade now? Tell him to call off the hounds. You can bring the witless doctor and the assassin with you. They won't do much to help you."

"Sherlock, call them off. Call them off now!" I snapped before going back to my conversation. "Why are you doing this?"

"Why? Because it's fun Delilah dear. This is our play time and we're only getting started. Tell Sherlock that I'm about to cash in my IOU. Good luck. Hope you don't end up having to search for kiddy caskets and a wreath for mummy's grave."

The call ended and I was shaking, turning to Sherlock. "We have to go. Now. Lestrade pulled his men back from all the buildings?"

"Yes, but not before six of them were wounded and two killed. I should have known that it was a trap."

"Well, by my watch we've got two hours to find everyone," Mary said. "Let's load up and go. No time to waste."

I nodded. "Mary, we'll taking your car. Sherlock, what's the closest place to here?"

"Meat packaging plant."

"We'll go there. John, do you have any medical supplies in the car?" I asked, going back to our bedroom, grabbing an extra box of bullets from the nightstand as well as the knife I'd bought a few weeks prior. "We're going to need everything that we can use."

"I've got a first aid kit in my car, yeah. Are we going or what?"

"Yes. Let's go." I brushed past the three of them, taking the stairs two at a time. I was dialing a phone number as I walked. "Mycroft. Is there any way that you can get a gun to me? I'm giving Mary back hers."

"I've already taken care of it. There is a pistol in the glove compartment of John and Mary's car. I hope you find it acceptable. Good luck." Mycroft hesitated on the other end of the line. "Watch out for my brother please. I don't need another bullet hole put into him."

"I'll do my best."

I hung up the phone, sliding into the passenger side, checking the glove compartment. Sure enough there was a pistol in there, as well as another box of bullets and two spare magazines. I handed Mary her gun as she slid into the driver's seat, looking up in the rearview mirror as John and Sherlock got in. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. My family needed me. I couldn't fail them like I had before. I shook myself as Ted's screams of pain began to echo through my mind. Mary took my hand, offering me a gently smile.

"We'll get them back. I promise you." She put the car in drive, pulling out into the street. "Sherlock, I'm going to need directions from you on how to get there."

"Does anyone else feel like we're going on a suicide mission?" John asked and I could tell that he was uncomfortable with this. "I mean, all four of us are armed to the teeth, we're going up against God knows how many gunmen, and-"

"If you didn't want to come you didn't have to," I snapped. Judging by the looks I received, my comment wasn't very polite. "I'm sorry John. I…I'm a little on edge."

"We all are," Sherlock answered. "Study the feed, tell us if anything changes on the video."

I nodded, yanking my phone out of my pocket, pulling up the site once more. I wanted to cry at what I saw. Donald had finally regained consciousness and he was weeping, saying prayers. My mother was still screaming, but I could see the vomit in the floor in front of her. She'd made herself sick. The most heartbreaking thing was the children. They were up to their waist in water. Max was helping his sister up onto the desk, no doubt under the impression that it would float once the room began to fill. I could only pray that it would.

I bowed my head, clasping my hands together. _'Please God. If you're there…please spare them. And if you must choose who to spare, please choose the children. They are innocents caught in the crossfire. Don't hurt them. They've done nothing to deserve this. God…I am begging you, protect us and protect them. In your Son's name I pray, amen.'_

"Last rites?" John asked sarcastically and I glared up at him but said nothing.

We pulled up in front of the old packaging plant, finding it crawling with police and SWAT team members. They were behind the barricade they'd set up. I could see Donovan standing at the edge and I got out of the car, running past her, vaulting over the barricade.

"Are you insane? I can't let you go in there!" She shouted as I crossed the pavement towards the building.

"Judging by the lack of bullet holes, I'd say they're not going to shoot me," I retorted. "Let them through."

I didn't care whether or not they were following me, only that I got inside the building. This had to be the place. Had to be. I shoved my shoulder into the door, bursting into the warehouse. I bit back a cry of frustration as I realized this wasn't the place. From the ceiling hung hundreds of photos. Photos of bodies, photos of crime scenes, of my family on outings, of Sherlock and John in the papers. I shook my head, running a hand through my hair.

"Fuck," I whispered, Sherlock stepping up next to me. "Fuck, it's the wrong place. Jesus Christ."

"Well, maybe there's a clue or something. Anything that's going to help us," Mary said, walking through the pictures. "There has got to be something."

I looked at the video feed, tapping on Donald's. I zoomed in on the bomb on his chest. "One hour and five minutes. Two places left. How far are the other places Sherlock?"

"The warehouse is thirty-seven minutes from this location. The laboratory is roughly the same time." Sherlock frowned and I could see his mind working. "We have to choose one or the other."

"Which one?" I demanded, looking up at all the pictures. "Sherlock, you can't be wrong about this."

"I…I…"

"Sherlock, which one is it?" John asked. "We have to know."

"I'm not sure."

"Sherlock," I said softly, staring at him with pleading eyes. "My entire family is going to die. Max and Maddie are going to _die_. Please…help them."

I watched as his brain switched gears. It was like watching him shrug into a suit of armor as his mind began to work. He looked at the video before closing his eyes. Sherlock paced the area and I watched him with baited breath. After a few moments he froze, turning to me, a look of triumph on his face.

"And? Where is it?" Mary asked. "Where do we need to go?"

"The laboratory."

"Let's move. Come on!" I was running out of the building, practically sprinting across the empty lot to where the car waited. I slid in, Sherlock and John following close behind. "Sherlock, are you sure?"

"One hundred percent," he replied and I looked up in the mirror at him. "Do you trust me?"

"Aye."

"Then I am one hundred percent positive it's the laboratory."

Mary began to drive and I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket.

 _ **Clock's ticking. The little ones are struggling on the desk. Who knew that it would be such a good flotation device? I'll have to plan better next time. Tell me, do you think you chose right? Or is your brainy boyfriend wrong and going (1/2)**_

 _ **To cost you your whole family? I'll send flowers to the funerals. Ta-ta! –Jim (2/2)**_

I swallowed the lump in my throat, trying to push the emotions aside. They had no place here, at least not in this moment. Complete the task and deal with the consequences after. I closed my eyes, trying to keep my mind clear except for the task at hand.

"We need a plan if we're doing this," John said and I opened my eyes to look at him. "We can't go in blind. We need to plot a course."

"Moriarty and Olivia will no doubt have men waiting for us. They're not going to give up the hostages without a fight," Sherlock replied. "But we've got four very good marksmen on our team and we're prepared for them. We'll have to watch out for tripwires and other things. No doubt they'll have the building rigged to blow."

I glanced at Mary, who looked worried. I touched her shoulder. "If you and John want to sit this one out, I understand. You're parents now and Sheryl needs you."

"Yes, she does." Mary replied and I noticed that the car was picking up speed. "But we can't protect her with these maniacs on the loose. They've made that quite clear by kidnapping your family. Which means we have to go with the second-best option. Killing them and destroying what they've created once and for all. Sherlock's right, there will be traps and they won't give up without a fight. But you don't step between a mama bear and her cub."

I smiled. "Right then. What's the plan?"

"Mary will go with John to get the children out. No doubt the door will be difficult to open with one person. Delilah, you'll go for your mother. Don't miss your shot when taking out those snipers. They'll be perched and waiting." Sherlock paused, closing his eyes. "I'll be going for Donald, getting the bomb off of him as I'm the most likely person to be able to disarm it. You cannot hesitate or else they will die. Do you understand?"

We all nodded and Mary was pulling up in front of the building, Lestrade waiting at the barricade this time. I pulled my gun out as I approached and he nodded at me. "You sure this is the right building?"

"Positive Lestrade. Do you want to know how I know?" Sherlock questioned, eyes focused on the building.

"How do you know?"

"There are seven snipers on the rooftop, all with their guns aimed at us. They're not going to let us in easily." Sherlock grabbed a rifle from one of the officers standing next to us. He tossed it at me and I caught it with ease. "Take them out."

"What makes you think that I can?"

"Because I've seen your shooting prowess in person. You and Mary are the only two who will be able to take them out. You want to save your family, do it."

I straightened up, looking at the options for cover. There wasn't much, but if I ran fast enough I could probably make it. I nodded to the other position that Mary could take and she caught what I was hinting at.

"I'm going to make a run for it. I'll cover you while you make it to your position."

"Sounds good."

"Wait a minute. You're going to send my _wife_ out to be target practice?" John looked at Sherlock and I incredulously. "Mary, give me the gun. You're not doing this."

"I'm the better shot. I'm doing it." She touched John's cheek, giving him a soft kiss. "I'll be fine. I've dealt with worse."

John frowned, turning to me. "You'd better take good care of her."

"I will. I've got her covered." I looked up at the snipers on the rooftop and I knew they were waiting for us to make our move. I tightened my grip on the rifle. "Three…two…one…go!"

I made a mad dash for cover, hearing the sound of bullets striking concrete, whizzing past me. I slid behind the concrete wall, peeking over quickly before taking aim, firing blindly. The idea was to keep them distracted long enough for Mary to get into position. I glanced to my left, seeing that Mary had secured her spot. I nodded to her and she nodded back.

' _Remember what I've taught you,'_ my father whispered in my mind. _'Take a deep breath, two seconds to aim, another second to squeeze the trigger. Make certain that your aim is true and keep your head down after the first shot. And watch your ammo. Nothing worse than being in the middle of a gun battle and running out of bullets.'_

I took in a deep breath, gripping the rifle in my hands. Once again the world slowed down and I peeked up over the edge. I glanced down the site, training on the one on the far right. I squeezed the trigger, watching as he dropped. I ducked down, watching as the concrete where my head had been not two seconds before flew off. I took the opportunity to take another shot, nailing another sniper.

Mary held up three fingers. I didn't know if that meant there were three left or that she'd taken three out. I scanned the roof with my scope. Apparently Mary had taken out three of them because there were only two left. They had Mary pinned down and she couldn't get up to take another shot. I took another deep breath, knowing that I only had one chance at this.

I took aim, firing, reloading. I took aim again, seeing the man's face in the scope. I smiled, dropping him. I stepped out of cover, dropping the rifle, pulling my pistol out of its holster. I moved across the open space, Mary behind me, John and Sherlock running to catch up. The door was locked, but I shot the handle, kicking it in.

"Where would they be?" I asked, checking the hallway.

"Your mother will be in the center of the building. They'll be on a ledge above the door when you first walk in. If you can find a way to distract them then you may have a chance to save her and not get shot yourself. Mary, John. You'll have to go right down this hallway and then downstairs to get to the children. There's a set of labs down there and one of them has a tank in it with a steel door. No doubt that will be our room." Sherlock began to walk down the left of the hallway and I grabbed his arm. "What is it? We've got twelve minutes to find them."

"Where are you going?" I asked.

"Upstairs. That's where they're keeping your step-father. Should the bomb blow it will bring the roof down on our heads and collapse the entire building around us. Now go." He gave me a nod. "I'll be fine. Go and find your mother. And…be careful."

"You too," I murmured before taking off through the door in front of me.

I jogged through the hallways before I came to the first trap. I'd nearly missed the tripwire. If it hadn't been for the blinking red light coming from a lab on the right, I would have walked right into it. I stepped over it carefully, going to disarm the bomb like Sherlock had showed me. I cut through two of the wires with my knife before turning off the switch. I began to run again when I came to the door I was looking for. I could see my mother struggling in her chair, crying and trying to scream.

I took in the entire scene before closing my eyes. _'How do I take them out?'_

' _Well, what did you see in that room? What are their positions? Is there anything that can help you?'_ That cold voice spoke up in my mind and I frowned. _'Come on now. You've got about six minutes and no doubt one of them is going to need your help once you get your mother out of there. Think!'_

"There's a metal walkway that they're standing on. I could shoot it down, but I risk them managing to get a shot on my mother."

' _It beats you walking into an ambush. There's no way you can take out all four of them without the element of surprise. Knock them off. You do run the risk of your mother getting shot, but you'll have time to take them out. Go!'_

I kicked the door in, aiming at the rusted struts holding up the walkway. I took three shots each and heard the creak of metal above me. I dove forward, rolling out of the way, the sound of gunfire echoing through the room. I turned, taking my shots. I dropped three of them, but the fourth was too quick. He dove behind my mother, using her as a hostage. I hesitated, adjusting my grip on the pistol.

"Let her go!"

"Not a chance," the man hissed. "She's my guarantee that I get out of this place alive. You can have her corpse back once I'm clear of this place."

I let my left hand drop to my side, beginning to sign to my mother, hoping that she would catch what I was trying to do. She subtly nodded and I grinned. "You're a fool working for Moriarty. You had to know that this would end poorly for you."

"No it won't. The way I see it, I kill your drunken whore mother here and then I kill you, I'll get double the pay." The man smiled.

"Ah, but you're forgetting the one thing that I can do. I doubt they filled you in on it though."

"And what's that?"

"I can sign," I replied, signing for my mother to drop. She threw herself to the right and the man, startled, staggered backwards.

I took aim and fired.

"Mum? Mum, are you alright? Are you okay?" I asked shakily, grabbing the knife from my pocket, cutting her bindings off.

"I…got shot," she answered, voice tight with pain. I noticed the blood on her shoulder. "I'm alright though. Are the children…?"

"Mary and John are rescuing them," I replied, wrapping my arm around her waist, looping her uninjured arm around my shoulders. "I'm getting you out of here. Come on. Let's go."

We made it down the hall and to the entrance when I heard my phone begin to go off again. I set my mother down against the wall before answering.

"What's going on?"

"Delilah, we need your help. We can't get the door open. The timer is almost up and-"

"I'll be down there," I replied, heart racing once more. I saw Sherlock coming down his end of the hallway, Donald leaning on him heavily. "Sherlock! Put him down. We've got to go and get the children."

"What? I thought you said they were safe?" I could hear the hysteria in my mother's voice and she grabbed my hand, squeezing hard. "Why would you save us and not the children?"

"Let go of me and I will go and get the children." I jerked away, taking off down the hallway, Sherlock following behind. "How do we get the door open?"

"I don't know, I haven't seen it yet."

"How much time do we have left?" I asked, not wanting to know the answer.

"Two and a half minutes."

I sprinted down the stairs, finding John and Mary doing their best to tug at the door. I noticed the keypad next to the door. "Oh God."

"It's not budging!" Mary cried, still doing her best to open the door. "We've tried everything and it won't budge."

"Tick-tock Sherlock," Moriarty's voice sang over an intercom system. "The kids are getting very wet in there. The boy's doing his best to keep his sister afloat, but they're so close to full now. Come on. Guess the code. You can do it. You're smart."

Sherlock approached the keypad, inspecting the numbers. "Grease on the numbers suggests that the numbers are 7-2-1-0. Do those mean anything to you?"

"I…I don't know…" I said helplessly, approaching the door. "Max and Maddie. I need you to hold on!"

"Delly? Delly! Help us, please!" I heard Max cry. "We're running out of room and I'm getting tired."

"I know you are. You're doing great. I need you to hang on a little bit more." I answered, feeling the tears begin to slip down my face. "Right before the water fills the room, I need you and Maddie to take as deep a breath as you can, like you would if you were swimming in a pool underwater. Can you do that?"

"Yes. Yes. But please…please hurry. I don't want to die," Max called and I felt my heart break. "I'm scared."

"I know. But we're going to get you out. I promise you."

Sherlock grabbed me by the shoulders. "We have twenty-five seconds before that room fills with water. Think! What could those numbers mean?"

I closed my eyes, going directly to my Library. I began to scan over books, trying to see if anything would trigger a memory. Birthdays? No. Childhood memories? No. Family deaths?

" _ **Ten seconds."**_

I grabbed the book down, flipping through the pages. It had to be in here. Someone had to have died that she cared about. What was it Sherlock was always rattling on about being a weakness? Sentiment?

" _ **Five."**_

I frantically flipped through the pages, searching for something, _anything_ that came close to the date.

" _ **Three."**_

"No, come on. Come on! It's got to be in here!"

" _ **One!"**_

I landed on the page, eyes widening. "Of course!"

I shoved past Sherlock, punching in the numbers of the day my father died. The light went from red to green and I grabbed the wheel for the door, putting all of my body weight into it. "Hold on! Hold on, we're coming to get you!"

Sherlock and John both grabbed hold and as we opened the door, the water came pouring out, spreading across everything. I braced myself against the rushing water, gripping the doorway, shoving my way in. Max and Maddie were both floating face down. I flipped them over, Mary coming in right behind me. I lifted Max up onto the desk, rubbing his chest hard. He coughed convulsively and I turned his head to the side. His eyes opened, struggling to focus on me.

"Max? Maximus? Can you hear me sweetheart?" I asked, brushing the hair off of his face.

"Maddie? Is Maddie alright?"

I turned to see that John and Mary had taken Maddie out of the room. From what I could glimpse, they were trying to revive her. I cleared my throat, forcing a smile. "She's…she's fine. They're talking to her right now."

"You're lying. She swallowed more water than I did. I have to-" We both froze when I heard the cry of anguish from my mother. I turned to see Donald and my mother on the stairs behind me.

"Oh God! Madeleine! Madeleine!"

"I want to see," Maximus said, struggling to get up.

"No," I said, forcing him back down. "You need to rest."

I could hear more people storming the building above our heads and I motioned for Sherlock to come in. "I'm going to see if I can't help Mary and John."

"You don't need to see it," Sherlock said, grabbing my hand. I jerked away from him. "Delilah. Believe me when I say you don't need to see it."

"She's my sister," I replied, stepping into the room.

The first thing I saw was my mother collapsed in the corner, blood streaked down the wall, Donald holding her tight in his arms. They both wept. I turned to the left, seeing Madeleine's body on the table, lips blue, face grey. John was performing chest compressions on her as Mary gave her air. I felt the world fall away and I was on my knees in the water, the tears finally flowing.

"God…please God…please. Take me. Spare her, take me. Spare her, take me. Please God." I repeated this over and over, not paying attention to anything around me. "Please…please…God please!"

I heard a small cough from the direction of the table and I looked up, watching as color came back into Maddie's face. John rubbed her chest, forcing her to cough more, taking a deep breath before letting out a feeble cry. I struggled to my feet, my legs giving out on me. This time Sherlock was there to catch me.

"I told you that you didn't need to see it."

He lifted me into his arms. Maximus went to join his parents around the table. Sherlock carried me out of the building, holding me tight as I wept in his arms. He set me down on the pavement, doing his best to keep out of the way of all the emergency personnel. I wrapped my arms around his neck, burying my face in his shoulder. He held me tight and let me cry, keeping silent.

"We have to get them," I sobbed.

"I know," he replied, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "I know."

"Promise me Sherlock."

"I promise."

* * *

"How's she doing?" John asked from the living room. I lay in bed, keeping my eyes closed, pretending to be asleep in case they decided to come back to the bedroom.

"Same as she was the last time this happened. I can barely get her to eat, she rarely leaves the room, let alone the flat." I could hear the frustration in Sherlock's voice. "I don't know what to do John. Nothing that I say helps. She doesn't even talk to me anymore."

"Do you want me to talk to her?"

"Please. She'll probably pretend she's asleep."

I sighed, rolling onto my other side to face away from the door. I heard John's footsteps down the hallway and the door creaked open. "Delilah? Del, I know you're awake."

He sat down on the edge of the bed, but I made no motion to move. He sighed heavily. "Sherlock wants me to talk to you. He says that you haven't been eating, haven't really left the room. That you fake sleep every time he comes in so you can avoid talking." John rested a hand on my shoulder and I jerked away, moving to Sherlock's side of the bed. "I know this has been rough on you, but you can't shut yourself away."

"They nearly killed my family John," I whispered, the tears slipping down my face. "And they managed to succeed in separating us. Mum told me that she…that I can't see the children anymore. That I'm too dangerous. Donald agrees. Maybe it would be best if I wasn't around people anymore."

"Delilah…are you suicidal?" John asked, alarmed. "If you are, we need to get you help."

"No," I replied, still not moving and not raising my voice above a whisper. "I'm not suicidal. I just don't want to put the people I care about in danger anymore."

"You're not putting anyone in danger Delilah," John answered, reaching out to touch my shoulder again. "You're trying to protect people, not hurt them. The ones hurting people are Olivia and Moriarty. And it wouldn't matter if you were here or not. They'd still be coming after us. They want all those who stood up to them dead."

I flipped over, staring up at John from my spot on the pillow. "You're wrong, but I understand the point you're trying to make. It's not working. Please…leave me alone."

"Del." I pulled the blankets over my head. "Del, listen to me, you can't-"

"I'm done talking John. Go away."

He didn't move, but neither did I. Finally, he sighed, getting up from the bed, closing the door to the bedroom. I untucked my head, curling up into a little ball. I closed my eyes, trying to fight off the memories that had haunted me for the past five days. But I couldn't. There was no escaping the pain and guilt that they had etched into my soul. Now I was chained down and I didn't know how to escape.

I must have dozed off because I was startled by the sound of knocking on the door. "Delilah? Del, it's me, Mary. Can I come in?"

I said nothing, only flipping onto my back, staring up at the ceiling. The door opened and Mary walked in, frowning when she saw me. "Oh Del."

"I don't want your sympathy," I stated, sitting up in the bed. "What are you doing here?"

"Sherlock asked me to stop by."

"Sherlock or John?"

"Both," she answered honestly, sitting down on the bed, putting the baby carrier next to me. "They told me that you weren't coming out of the room."

"No. I'm not putting anyone else in danger."

"Like who?"

"Well, you three for starters. My family. Lestrade. Molly." I heard the baby begin to cry and Mary rocked the seat. I sat up in the bed, looking at little Sheryl beginning to fuss. "Most of all I don't want to see the children get hurt anymore. Especially not the baby."

"Believe me when I say that no one is getting near my child and no one is going to hurt any of us. We're always on our guard now, especially with what happened to your family." Mary lifted Sheryl out of the carrier, rocking her gently back and forth. "You can't blame yourself for what happened. Even if you weren't here or God forbid you had died on that building back in January, they would still have come after us. All of us."

"I nearly killed Madeleine and Maximus! Don't you get it?!" I shouted, wincing as the baby began to wail. Mary tried her best to sooth her. "I'm sorry…I'm so sorry. I didn't…hush baby."

I reached out to hold her, but Mary hesitated. "Are you sure you are able to hold her?"

I nodded slowly, still reaching. "Let me. I'm sorry. I'm sorry baby."

Mary handed her off and I got out of the bed, pacing the room slowly, bouncing her up and down. I could feel Mary watching me as I tried my best to sooth her. I closed my eyes, remembering one of the many songs that had been sung to me as a child. I began to sing it softly, continuing to pace with Sheryl in my arms.

" _Oh Danny boy the pipes, the pipes are calling…from glen to glen, and down the mountain side…the summer's gone, and all the flowers are dying…'tis you, 'tis you must go and I must bide."_ The baby was calming down and I smiled at her as she stared up at me with those big blue eyes. " _But come ye back when summer's in the meadow…or when the valley's hushed and white with snow_ … _'tis I'll be here in sunshine or in shadow_ … _oh Danny boy, oh Danny boy, I love you so..."_

I pressed a kiss to the top of her head as she drifted off to sleep. I looked up to see John and Sherlock standing in the doorway, Mary looking at me with tears in her eyes. I blushed, handing Sheryl back to her. I stood in front of them, feeling ashamed at my behavior.

"I…erm, well…I suppose I should get a shower and get dressed. Need to go down to the school and all that…start lessons and training again." I looked from person to person in the room, my eyes finally falling on Sherlock. "I'm fine. A good meal, a hot shower, I'll be right as rain."

"Are you sure?" John asked and I could tell that he was worried.

"Positive. We've got a couple of homicidal maniacs to catch and I intend to make it through to the end. No more hiding away, no more being scared of my own shadow." I looked down at the sleeping bundle in Mary's arms. "There are more things worth fighting for than there are things to fear. I'm sorry for wallowing and worrying everyone."

I began to exit the room when Sherlock grabbed my arm. I looked up at him, seeing the confusion there in his eyes. "What made you change your mind?"

I pulled away gently, walking down the hall, scratching Scarlett behind the ears as she ran up to me. "Because there are more important things than staying hidden. I may be chained down, but I won't give up without a fight. Believe me. We will get them and they will pay." I closed the door to the bathroom, leaning against it as I heard the other three begin talking. I looked up at the ceiling before cutting on the water.

"I'll make sure that they do," I murmured to myself, staring at my reflection in the mirror. "There's a storm brewing and they'll soon learn what happens when you unleash it."


	7. Chapter 7

***Hello lovelies. I know its been a while since I updated. I've been fighting my depression for the past week and its been a struggle. But I've kept throwing myself at this until it was finished because I know that there are people out there that are enjoying this story. If you're one of those people, I want to thank you. I also want to thank those that are following/favoriting this or any of my other stories. Its been giving me the drive to write more, even on my more difficult days. Anyway, as always, I hope you enjoy this chapter. This does touch on some heavier/triggering material (suggestions of rape/PTSD) so if you're sensitive to that sort of thing, don't read. Feel free to leave me reviews/comments/questions. I'm always happy to answer. Have a wonderful day and I'll see you in the next chapter!**

 **Chapter 7: Wedding Plans and Reconciliations**

"Ooooh!" The women all said in unison as I stepped out of the dressing room. I blushed.

"Del, that dress is lovely!" Mary gushed.

"Agreed," Irene chimed in, looking me up and down. "That dress is perfect for you."

I turned to look at Molly. "Well? What do you think?"

"It does look very nice," she murmured. "What do you think Delilah?"

I looked at myself in the mirror. It was a beautiful ivory mermaid gown with lace sleeves and a lace back. I spun, watching as it flared out around me. I looked up into the mirror again, smiling. "I like it. A lot."

"So is this the one?" Mary asked, going to stand next to me, bringing the veil down over my face.

"Aye. I think this is the one."

The women all clapped and I returned once more into the dressing room to change back into my regular clothes. Mycroft had given me a blank check that morning and I felt myself tremble when the woman rang up my dress and fittings. If I'd had to buy this myself, it would've taken a year and a half to make enough money.

When I finished I met the other three outside, all talking and laughing. I gave them a small smile. "Where to next ladies?"

"We were thinking lunch," Irene replied, not looking up from her phone. "Girls day out. Where would you like to go?"

"I think I'm in the mood for Italian food," I answered.

We'd taken Mary's car and John had taken the cab to work. Sherlock had actually offered to watch little Sheryl, much to our surprise. Mary had protested, but I had done my best to reassure her that the baby would be fine in Sherlock's hands and that Mrs. Hudson was downstairs and would no doubt be keeping an eye and ear out. Mary had finally obliged, but she'd been on edge for most of the outing, texting Sherlock every twenty minutes. He'd begun to ignore her after the fourth check-up.

We all piled into the car. I took the passenger seat as Irene and Molly got into the back. Mary pulled away, joining the London traffic. As we rode, Molly asked, "So, Del, how have you been doing?"

I glanced up in the rearview mirror. "Oh, pretty well. I've been picking up more lessons at the school. Worked with Sherlock on a couple of cases, nothing major. And we've both been going crazy about this wedding and getting everything planned. We've still got to do the cake tasting and practice our first dance."

"That's good." Molly hesitated for a moment and I noticed that she had a look of embarrassment in her eyes. "I…I really was asking how you've been doing since March. I know that it must have been hard on you."

"Oh…" I looked down at my hands before looking back up into the mirror. "I…well, I suppose I'm doing as well as anyone can. I've really been trying to keep busy with…with other things."

"Have you spoken to your mother?" Irene asked and I felt my face flush.

"Irene! We said that we wouldn't bring it up yet!" Molly admonished. "Sorry Del."

"It's fine," I said, trying to hide the pain in my voice. "No, I haven't. And I won't until she decides to pick up the phone and talk to me. I can't say that I blame her. Her family was nearly killed. And in the minds of those who aren't as intelligent as the four of us in this car, they will continue to think that I am the one who caused it."

The entire car grew quiet and I bit my lip, trying to hide my anger. It had been so hard to not call the woman and tell her how foolish she was being. Sherlock had done it and that had not gone over well.

 _The sound of gunshots, bullets whizzing overhead. I watch the last man drop, blood floating behind him on the breeze in a fine red mist. More blood, streaked against the tile wall behind my mother as she falls to the floor. A blue-grey face looks up blankly towards the ceiling, body moving only with the chest compressions of John's hands. Please God spare her take me spare her take me spa-_

Mary reached over, patting my knee. I jumped slightly. "They'll come 'round eventually. You'd be surprised."

"I mean, it's not like my mother and I haven't gone through this before." I could hear the bitterness in my voice. "The only thing I regret is not being able to explain it to the children."

"But it's not your fault! Your mother has to understand that!" Molly protested.

I turned in my seat, giving her a sad smile. "Unfortunately, as I said, not as intelligent as the four of us in this car. She won't ever understand that. Now, if we could leave this topic alone and get onto the real mystery in this car."

"And what mystery is that?" Mary asked, shooting me a sideways glance as she drove.

"The mystery of when those two in the back got together."

Molly gasped in the backseat, Irene chuckled softly, and Mary turned to stare at me in shock, eyes wide. I calmly turned to look out the windshield. "Mary, if you don't hit the brakes we're going to wreck."

She looked back at the road, swerving to avoid the car that we were about to rear end. She continued driving, but I could see the mixture of shock and curiosity on her face. Irene leaned forward, sticking her head between our seats, giving me a sly grin.

"How on earth did you figure it out? Did Sherlock tell you?"

I rolled my eyes. "No, Sherlock didn't tell me anything. Although when I text him about it back at the bridal salon, he did confirm my suspicions for me. Do you really want to know how I figured it out?"

"Yes," all three women said at the same time, Mary pulling into a small parking lot behind the restaurant.

"Fine. Molly, when you came to the flat this morning, I noted that you were wearing a different perfume than what you normally wear. You are also wearing a very nice piece of lingerie, either a teddy or a bustier. I'm leaning more towards a teddy, seeing as you're the type to match the top with the bottom. I saw it twice, once when you took your jacket off at the flat and your shirt gapped in the front and the second time when you went to reach for the tea bags in the cabinet. That shade of pink is actually very pretty on you by the way. Anyway, when Irene came in, she was wearing the exact same perfume that you were."

"Also, the lipstick that you're wearing was smudged when you came in Molly, and there was a very faint stain of that same shade on Irene's jawline. She corrected this after first arriving, probably in hopes that Sherlock wouldn't see it and say something. When I stepped out of the dressing room in the third gown, you two were discreetly holding hands. I saw you two let go at the same time. Plus, you've been batting eyelashes at each other when you thought that others weren't looking. So…how long have you two been dating?"

Irene clapped her hands in glee while Molly's face grew bright red. "Oh, you _are_ turning into him! How wonderful!"

"Wonderful?" Molly choked out. "Irene, this isn't how I wanted everyone to find out! We were going to tell them after the wedding."

"Well, the secret is out. I don't know why you thought that you could keep it from Sherlock or myself, especially when he has been training me every single moment of our free time." I looked at Mary, who still seemed to be processing all of the information. "Should we go and get lunch? We can discuss this over a nice ravioli and a glass of wine."

"Glass? I think I'll need a bottle," Molly muttered under her breath, getting out of the car and heading towards the restaurant.

"Will she be alright?" Mary asked Irene.

"Perfectly fine. I'll reassure her once we get home," Irene murmured, giving me a mischievous look before getting out of the car, following Molly.

"Well."

"Well."

"This has been…"

"Interesting," I finished, flashing Mary a smile. "Come on, let's go and get some food. We can talk about it over lunch. Are you going to tell John?"

"Of course!" Mary replied. "I think he should know about this, don't you?"

I laughed. "Yes, but maybe in person instead of over text. He might faint and you'll have to catch him."

"With this news? He just might."

We both got out of the car, going into the restaurant, finding Molly and Irene in a back booth sitting next to one another. Molly already had a glass of red wine in front of her and I laughed. "Couldn't even wait until we got to the table?"

"How? How did you know?" Her voice was pained and I frowned. I hadn't realized how upset she would be.

"I told you, Sherlock has been training me to observe. I'll never be as good as he is, but I'm getting better." I sat down on the opposite side of the couple, sliding over so that Mary could follow behind me. "So, how long have you two been together?"

"A little after you saw your father's body. It started out as friends and then blossomed from there," Irene answered, taking Molly's hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "It's okay luv, don't be shy. We're among friends here."

"I…I suppose…it's still so new. We haven't told anyone yet." Irene took a deep breath. "You could say that Irene became my confidante. When I realized that she had no place to stay, I let her come and stay on my couch, much like Sherlock and John did for you. There was a bottle of wine one night and my complaining about how men were such pigs and-"

I held up a hand, grinning from ear to ear. "Don't need details. I'm glad to hear that you two are happy. That's all that matters to me."

"Me as well," Mary said with a soft smile. "So long as you two make each other happy and respect each other, we're here to support you."

The waiter walked up and we ordered our drinks, laughing and talking over the bottle zinfandel that Irene had chosen. We finished our lunch slightly tipsy, but much more relaxed than we had been when we'd arrived. Mary was sober enough to drive thankfully and we made it back to the flat. Irene and Molly left as soon as we arrived. Mary and I went upstairs to find Sherlock standing by the window, Sheryl cradled in his arms, music playing softly from the stereo.

"How is she?" Mary asked, crossing to Sherlock, going to take the baby from him. "Has she been alright?"

"Perfectly fine Mary," Sherlock replied. "I fed her, burped her, and changed her diaper. She was a bit fussy a little bit ago, but I calmed her down and put her back to sleep right before you walked in."

"Thank you Sherlock," Mary said with a smile. "I knew I could trust you."

"No you didn't. It's why you sent me no less than thirty-seven text messages in the time that you and Lila were gone. She is safe and fed." Sherlock stared into her face. "You've had a drink."

"We all did," I answered, going to sit on the couch, my head spinning from the alcohol. "We went and grabbed a late lunch and had some wine. Mary was sober enough to drive us home. And now we're here. I've got the dress and I got Molly and Irene to confess that they're seeing one another."

Sherlock nodded. "Yes, well, Mary, I can't let you drive with a baby in the car if you've had any alcohol until I am completely certain that you're sober."

"Sherlock, I'm fine!" Mary protested, putting the baby in the carrier. "I had one glass. I'm completely fine."

"Your cheeks are rosy, your eyes ever so slightly glassed over. How big a glass of wine was it?"

"Sherlock. I am not _drunk_. I'm not even _tipsy._ " Mary straightened up. "I'll perform a test right now if you want me to prove my sobriety. Honestly, if you think that I would drive drunk with my _baby_ in the car, you're out of your mind."

Sherlock smiled. "That was my test. You're fine Mary. I wanted to see how you would react. All within normal parameters for you." Sherlock pressed a kiss to her cheek before bending down, pressing a kiss to Sheryl's head. "Bring the baby by some time soon. She and I were bonding over the violin."

Mary nodded, lifting the carrier before turning to look at me. "Are you going to be fine? You had more wine than I did."

I gave her a small smile, getting up and giving her a hug. "I'll be alright. It was only three glasses. Thank you so much for helping me today. I appreciate it."

"No problem Del," Mary replied, pressing a kiss to my cheek. "Don't be a stranger. I expect a phone call after the cake tasting."

 _A phone call. His voice ringing in my ear. May as well make your last phone calls...wind rips at me and the rain and wind tears at me. Fear rises up in my chest as I struggle to find a way off. Heat flashes across my back, hot white pain searing my skin. Numbers burn into my mind. 1:30 in brilliant red. Why don't you just die? Just die? J-_

"Del?" Mary asked, brow furrowed. "Are you alright?"

I felt Sherlock turn his gaze onto me and I forced a smile, looking at Mary. "Of course! Sorry, was a bit...a bit lost in thought. So much to do and so little time."

"I completely understand," Mary said with a laugh. "Anyway, I'll be in touch. I'll bring Sheryl by next week." Mary left after that, giving me a worried backwards glance, leaving Sherlock, Scarlett, and I standing in the living room. Sherlock looked me up and down. "So, what sort of gown did you choose?"

"I'm not telling you," I replied, going to sit at the desk, opening my laptop. "It's going to be a surprise."

"You know I could always ask my brother."

I smiled. "I think you'd find that this may be one of the few things that your brother and I agree on." I opened the document I was working on, reading over what I had written. "Sherlock, have you worked on your vows at all?"

"I was planning on it. I've been a bit busy with the caterer and the wedding cake design. Have you looked over the seating chart like I asked you to?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yes Sherlock, I have."

"Did you really or are you trusting me to have made sure it was right?"

"I glanced over it last night," I grumbled. "It seemed fine to me."

Sherlock sighed. "Delilah, you do have to put effort into this wedding."

I looked up at him from my laptop, eyes narrowing. "I _am_ putting in effort Sherlock. I'm sorry that I can't devote as much time to it as you can, seeing as I'm working at the clinic, trying to set up a self-defense class for women at the school, teaching classes for George as he can't be bothered to do it anymore, and still trying to track down my sister. I've been busy and this is the first day off I've had in almost a month and a half. Give me a little bit of a break. I got the gown and I'm working on my vows."

"You should stop working at the clinic," Sherlock stated calmly, going to sit across from me at his own laptop. "It's a waste of your time and energy. And it's not like we need the money anyway. I make enough working cases. Plus, you could start charging for your classes instead of doing them for free."

I raised an eyebrow at Sherlock. "I enjoy working at the clinic. You know this."

"Yes, I do. But I also know that it's taking its toll on you physically." Sherlock reached out to take my hand. "Lila, you are exhausting yourself and I know that it's because you don't want to deal with the things that have happened. But if we're going to find your sister and Moriarty then I need you at full strength." I pulled my hand away, leaning back in my chair. "Will you at least think about it? Please?"

"Fine," I muttered. "I need some time."

"Alright." Sherlock turned to his computer screen. "I'm going to work on the vows now. If you could go and actually look at the seating chart on the fridge that would be fantastic."

I got up from the desk, legs wobbling for a moment from the alcohol. Sherlock looked up at me, slightly amused. "What's the matter? Too much wine?"

"Perhaps. I haven't had alcohol since Valentine's last year."

"Do you remember what happened that night?" Sherlock questioned, not looking up from his screen. "You never did tell me."

 _Sharp pain in the back of my head, black eyes peering down at me, standing next to Olivia. I know the name, but I can't say it as the darkness takes over my mind. Waking up with my entire body throbbing, a ball-gag shoved in my mouth, hands groping for my naked body, tears streaming down my face. Sherlock, help me please. Help me. SHERLOCK!_

"Lila?"

I jerked in my seat, glancing up at Sherlock across the table. His brow was furrowed as he stared at me. I let out a shaky breath before saying, "I'll tell you if you tell me how you survived the fall."

Sherlock frowned. "You wouldn't understand it if I did."

"Then you won't know what happened the night I left," I replied, walking into the kitchen to look at the seating chart. "How many guests are we looking at total?"

"About eighty-five to ninety-five, depending on how many of your family show up. Two of your aunts and uncles have confirmed, as well as a half-dozen of your cousins. Honestly, how many family members do you?"

"Enough," I replied, looking at the seating chart, rearranging a few of my cousins. "More than enough actually."

' _You're a fool, you know that?'_ Olivia whispered in my ear and I shook myself, trying to focus on the seating chart. _'You're a fool and you shouldn't be having a wedding. You should be dead. Tell me, did you miss me?'_

"Shut up," I growled, closing my eyes, trying to focus. "You're not here. You're in my head. Just shut up."

' _Why don't you just die?'_ Moriarty now whispered. _'Why don't you just die? Just let us kill you. It'll be quick. Painless even. Your mother hates you, you and Sherlock do nothing but play deductions and argue about who's right. Mary and John are always busy. Why don't you just die?'_

"Shut UP!" I shouted, ripping the seating chart off of the fridge, throwing it to the ground.

"Lila?" Sherlock asked from behind me. "What's the matter?"

 _Heat on my back. Scrambling to my feet to run despite the pain. The numbers on the clock read a minute thirty. I am going to die. I am going to die. Going to die. Going to-_

"Lila, you are not there. You are here. You are here and you are safe." Sherlock had grabbed me by my shoulders and was kneeling in front of me. I hadn't realized that I'd fallen to the floor. "Listen to me. You are here in the flat with me. We're going over wedding plans. You are safe."

"Sherlock?"

"Yes. Yes, it's me." He pulled me into his arms and I began to cry. "It's me. It's me. I was worried this might happen if you had alcohol."

"I'm sorry. I'm being ridiculous."

"No, you're not." He pulled me tighter against him as I wept. "What's the matter?"

"It's nothing. The alcohol and the fact that I haven't spoken to my therapist in a couple of weeks make it so that I'm a bit more...vulnerable to flashbacks." I wiped at my eyes, pushing away from Sherlock. "I'm fine. Really."

"Lila...if this is too much for you-"

"No, it's fine. I'm fine." I got to my feet, going to escape to the bathroom. "I need a minute to compose myself is all. Then I'll get back to the seating chart."

I locked myself in before he could say anything else and I leaned against the wall, focusing on my breathing, trying to regain control. I tried to focus on a happy memory, something, _anything_ to block out their voices. I couldn't focus, their voices were too loud in my mind. I sank to the floor, head cradled in my hands, rocking back and forth.

' _Too much wine. Too much stimulation. Go to your Library.'_ The cold voice in my head muttered. I could hear it despite Olivia and Moriarty screaming in my brain. _'Go. They won't leave you alone until you get control again.'_

I was standing in front of the doors, pushing them open. The shelves were shaking all around me, the books falling off the shelves, their voices screaming at me from all directions. I felt weak and shaky as I crossed the room, trying to make it outside. I knew as soon as I did that, I would be able to gain control. A book flew off the shelf, striking me in the side of my head, driving me to my knees. I let out a cry of terror as the two of them appeared, circling me like hungry sharks, Olivia's eyes emerald flames and Moriarty's sparkling obsidian. Both of them were fueled by insanity.

 _ **There's pounding at the door. "Lila? Lila, unlock the door. Unlock the door or I will kick it in!"**_

I begin to crawl towards the French doors, trying desperately to make it to peace as they kicked at me, hurling insults. I sobbed, curling into a ball, trying to protect myself. "Why are you doing this to me?!"

"Why?" Olivia laughed. " _You_ opened the flood gates. _You_ let us in. Weak already and drinking alcohol made it so much easier to break into here. Don't you like our visits? Don't you like us coming to see you in every dream?"

" _ **Delilah, open this door right now or I swear I will break it down."**_

"Come on," Moriarty crooned in my ear. "You know you want to end it all. The gun, the blade, the noose. End it all, make it easy."

"No!" I cried, forcing myself to begin crawling again. The door was so close.

"Why won't you stay down?" My sister shrieked in my ear, trying to stand in my way. I shoved at her legs, forcing myself forward.

"I'm not…going to be held down."

I struggled to my knees, my hand gripping the door handle. Moriarty gripped me by my hair, yanking me back to look into those manic black eyes. "Why don't you just _die?_ "

"Why don't you you son-of-a-bitch?" I growled, throwing myself from his grip and outside into the garden. I lay in the soft grass, hearing the blessed silence of my mind, the wind blowing through the trees. "Thank you. Oh God, thank you."

I closed my eyes, ignoring the crash in the bathroom as Sherlock burst in. I opened them again to find him kneeling next to me, a look of anxiousness on his face. "Sherlock…you broke the door."

"Why wouldn't you answer me?" Sherlock demanded.

"I was thinking."

"Thinking? Delilah, I thought you were dying in here. You were screaming and sobbing. Scared Scarlett half to death."

"I'm fine. Well, I'm fine now," I answered, sitting up slowly. "Can we go to bed?"

Sherlock picked me up in his arms. "You're going to rest on the couch while I work where I can see you. I'll let Mrs. Hudson know that she needs to send a repairman for the door." He carried me to the couch, setting me down gently. "Now, you rest and no more alcohol for you until you see your therapist."

"Sherlock?"

"Mmm?"

"I'm sorry I scared you," I murmured, feeling my eyes drooping from the alcohol and exhaustion.

"You didn't."

"Liar," I whispered, snuggling under the blanket that Sherlock had covered me in.

He pressed a kiss to my forehead. "Prove it."

* * *

I woke up hours later to a twilight filled room, Sherlock still hunched over his computer, the lamplight behind him casting a soft golden glow around him. I sat up slowly, rubbing at my head, trying to fight against the headache behind my eyes.

"Mrs. Hudson's repair man will be here tomorrow to fix the door. I told John that you wouldn't be in to the clinic tomorrow, and you have an appointment with your therapist at eleven-thirty tomorrow morning." Sherlock picked up his phone, glancing at it before tossing it back onto the desk. "Why must writing this be so difficult?"

"I'm going to the clinic tomorrow." I got to my feet, going to stand next to him. "I don't need to see my therapist."

"Delilah," Sherlock's voice was soft and I could tell that he was restraining himself. "You had a nervous breakdown today from lack of sleep and God knows what else. You need to go. I don't even like therapists and I believe that you could benefit from one."

"Sherlock, I am fine."

"You are not fine!" Sherlock rose to his feet, going to stand in front of me. "You're still struggling to eat, you work out constantly. Last week I saw you bandaging your knuckles because of the bruises and cuts. You're limping from the blisters on the backs of your ankles from all your runs. You have dark circles under your eyes from lack of sleep and when you do sleep you're tossing and turning, crying and shouting. You don't remember a lot of them, but I do because you're drenched in sweat and looking around wildly as if they're trying to kill you."

"Sherlock…"

"You forget that I see everything Delilah, especially now that John and Mycroft have opened my eyes." He began to pace the room. "You can't sit in one spot for more than ten minutes at a time before you have to do something or begin to fidget. In the past you could sit for hours with me in the same room and not move at all. There have been a few times where a car has back-fired and I've found evidence that you threw yourself to the ground to protect yourself. You got rid of every digital clock in the flat besides our phones because they remind you of the timers on the bombs." Sherlock reached out to touch me and I flinched away. "But that…that is the most telling sign of all."

"Telling sign of what?"

"That something is very wrong with you Delilah and that you need help. I was once your dark haired angel and your protector. Now you struggle to even let me touch you, look at you." There was pain and frustration in his voice. "I haven't held you properly since Sheryl was born. I haven't made love to you since that night. I've wanted to and yet you push me away. And I don't understand why."

My lower lip began to tremble and I turned away from him, going to the window. "I am different Sherlock. Changed. All of this death, all of this destruction. All of the wounds and scars. I'm ugly now, deformed. _Broken."_

I swallowed hard, staring out at the streets. I didn't know what Sherlock would say, what he could say. More than likely, he was going to call off the wedding, tell me to leave the flat, never come back. I wouldn't be surprised if he did. He needed a peaceful place, one where he could be alone and think instead of being surrounded by my chaos. That's why I was surprised when he wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me tight against him.

"Delilah…I too am different. I am a robot, a freak, a sociopath. These people aren't wrong when they call me those names. But we can't let that change the people we are and what we've become because of each other." He pressed a kiss to my neck and I shuddered. "You have changed me in ways that I didn't think were possible. I could care less how many scars you have on your body, how much weight you gain or lose, how much your mind changes and warps and grows. I'm enjoying watching you grow and I want to enjoy watching you conquer your demons."

"You don't…you don't think the scars are ugly? You don't think me deformed?"

"For what?"

"You've seen them."

"Do you want me to talk about them then? Would that make you feel better, for me to acknowledge every mark on your body?"

"I want to know that you actually see it."

His hands reached under my shirt, fingers brushing against every blemish. "Seven whip marks from your captivity in the warehouse when Desmond was beating you. Burns all across the back that are fading slowly with the cream that you put on every night. Two burns, one on each side of your rib cage. A bullet wound on your lower abdomen, a slight scar down your chest where they cut you from your bra. Burns across your thighs." Sherlock pressed another kiss, this time to my shoulder as he lifted my shirt up. "And I love every single inch. Each scar, each mark, each blemish are all testaments to how brave and strong you are Delilah."

I turned to look at him, wrapping my arms around his neck, resting my forehead against his. "Do you mean that Sherlock?"

"Do you think that I would say that if I didn't?"

"No. You wouldn't waste your breath if you didn't mean it." I pressed a kiss to his lips, toying with the hair at the nape of his neck. "Thank you."

"There you go thanking people again."

I smiled. "It's a habit that I'll never break. Now why don't we-"

My phone began to ring in the kitchen and I pulled away from Sherlock, looking down at the caller ID in shock. I answered it quickly. "Mother?"

"It's me Delilah," Donald was hesitant on the phone. "Your mother doesn't know that I called." "Why did you call?" Sherlock's hand rested on my shoulder. "Its been almost three months. The way I understood it, you two were both going to forget that I even existed."

I walked down the hall, beginning to pace, Scarlett walking next to me. "Yes, well, that was before Maximus and Madeleine began to pester us about seeing you. I tried to explain to them that you two weren't...weren't safe to be around, but they wouldn't hear it."

"Why's that? Because they realized that we're _not_ the bad guys?" My temper was rising and I did my best to reign it in, not wanting to end the first phone call I'd had with them since March on a bad note. "What made you change your mind?"

"Maximus told me that if it hadn't been for you, they would have died. Madeleine agrees, saying that you four are her heroes." I could hear the frown in his voice. "Look, your mother and I are coming up to London for business this weekend. Would you care to meet us for coffee?"

"Will you tell her that I'm going to meet you all?"

"No," he replied. "She won't come if she knows that we're going to see you. She's not happy with you, especially after your fiancé called her."

"I'd say sorry about that, but I won't lie. You two were being bloody idiots."

"Let's save the name-calling for a later date. Coffee on Saturday around twelve-thirty sound good to you?"

"Sure. Text me the name of the place later. I'll see you then."

I hung up the phone, staring out the window of our bedroom. Sherlock was standing behind me and I sighed. "You heard that entire conversation I'm guessing?"

"Yes."

"And? What are your thoughts and feelings on it?"

"It's strange. But if they're willing to try then we'll meet them."

I frowned. "I don't know...something seems off about the entire thing."

He wrapped his arms around my waist, resting his chin on my shoulder. "It will be fine. Coffee and a calm discussion as adults. You're still wired from earlier. Don't worry. Please."

I sighed, turning to face him, wrapping my arms around his neck. "I know. I'm sorry. If you say it'll be fine, then it'll be fine. I just...I want to be able to see Max and Maddie again. I miss them. They're sweet children."

"They are. Delilah, may I ask you something?"

"Certainly. What would you like to ask?" We began to sway back and forth with one another to a non-existent tune.

"Well, we've talked about children before. I was wondering...you and I aren't getting any younger obviously. Do you...do you want to start trying after we're married?" My eyes widened and his face grew alarmed. "If you don't it's fine, I completely understand. After all, we're not even married yet and-"

I kissed him passionately, stopping him mid-sentence. He pulled me closer to him and I finally broke away, smiling up at him. "Sherlock, why do you think that I would object to that? Of course I want to start a family with you."

"Really?"

"Yes really," I laughed. "Why wouldn't I want to have brilliant black-haired, galaxy eyed children with you?"

"Impossible. Our children will have dark hair and your dark brown eyes. My hair is dominant, but my eye color recessive. Your eye color is dominant and mine recessive. It's simple genetics really." Sherlock smiled as I rolled my eyes. "Well, I mean, there is the very rare chance that one of them will look exactly like me, but I doubt we'd want that. I believe the world could only handle one of me."

I touched his cheek, giving him a gentle smile. "Sherlock, what did I ever do to deserve you?"

"I'll tell you in our vows. Why don't we go and have our own reconciliation before Saturday?" He eyed the bed and I laughed.

"If it would make you happy Sherlock, I am all yours for the night."

* * *

I left therapy, wiping at my eyes. It had been a very difficult session and it had ended with me in a hysterical heap backed into a corner. But she had been patient and had calmed me down enough to where I could function once more. In my jacket pocket was a prescription for paroxetine, an antidepressant and anti-anxiety medication. It had come highly recommended, but I was still unsure of it. I'd have to do quite a bit of research before I filled the prescription.

A sign caught my eye as I walked and I stopped in front of the building, looking inside. It was a hair salon. Getting my hair done for the wedding had been on my to-do list. And I still had three hours before the cake tasting with Sherlock. I checked the wallet in my pocket, finding that I still had a good portion of my last paycheck in there. I walked in the door, going up to the front desk. The woman behind the counter seemed like a kind young woman with brilliant violet hair.

' _Married, two cats, four months pregnant, first child. Working two jobs. Husband works in the automotive industry. In school for law, working here until she can find another job.'_

I gave her a smile. "How are you doing today?"

"Just fine. Yourself?"

"Not too bad. I was wondering, would you all happen to have any availabilities? I know I'm a walk-in, but my wedding is in a few months and I really need to get my haircut." The woman glanced back at the other stylists before typing away at her computer.

"Let's see. Veronica should be finishing with her client in about twenty minutes and it looks like her next wouldn't be until four. I think we could fit you in. How long have you and your fiancé been engaged?"

"Roughly a year," I answered. "How long have you and your husband been married?"

She flushed, giving me a smile. "We've been married for three years now. We've-"

"Got a little one on the way. I noticed. How are your studies going?"

The woman looked at me curiously. "I'm sorry, have we met before? I don't remember you."

"We haven't," I answered calmly, hands clasped behind my back.

"Then how did you know?"

"A party trick of mine."

I went to go sit down when she grabbed my wrist. "Seriously. How did you know? Half the girls here haven't even figured out that I'm pregnant and no one here knows I'm going to school."

"Contents of your bag behind your desk. You have two books that I studied when I was in university studying law. You also have prenatal vitamins in there. Your trash can has a small bit of vomit down the side of it, meaning that when you came in this morning, you didn't have time to make it to the restroom. Even though you're wearing makeup I can see the acne." I smiled. "Also, the corner of your homework from last night is haphazardly tucked under the other papers on your desks. So what are you studying?"

Her eyes were wide with shock, but she managed to say, "I want to be a barrister. I know it's going to be difficult with a little one, but its been my dream since I was a child."

I smiled. "Keep going for it then. Give them someone to look up to growing up. It'll be difficult, but you can do it. Here," I dug through my wallet, finding a worn and tattered card from my days at the law firm. "Go to them once you've graduated. Tell them Delilah McKinley sent you. I'm sure they'll be more than happy to take you in. At the very least they'll point you in the right direction."

She took the card from me. "Thank you. This was very kind from you. I'm Carissa."

"I hope that helps you and the baby Carissa. I'll give you my number once my haircut is done. If you have any questions about your studies, feel free to call me." The woman named Veronica was approaching the reception desk with her customer. "You'll do fine."

The stylist rang out her customer before taking me to the back, sitting me down in the chair. "So what'll it be for you t'day luv?"

"I want all of it off."

The woman ran her fingers through my hair. "All of it?"

"Aye, all of it except for a bit on the front, like bangs. Can you do that for me?"

"Sure. You're positive that you want to cut all of your hair off? I heard you talking to Rissa, about you getting married soon. Won't he-"

"Please. Cut my hair off. All of it."

"Whatever you want."

I closed my eyes as she began to cut my hair. Hopefully Sherlock hadn't been lying when he'd said that he'd liked my short hair.

I left the salon about a half hour later, having given Clarissa my number before leaving. I kept running my fingers through the bangs that the stylist had given me. It had been a shock seeing it in the mirror, but I'd liked it. It had made my features pop and the bangs could hide one eye or the other, giving me a bit of mystery. Plus, short hair meant that it wouldn't get caught on anything.

I walked down the sidewalk, enjoying the cool air blowing by. It was only a thirty minute walk to the bakery we'd chosen and I was in no hurry. A man began to keep pace beside me and I glanced over, smiling. "Sherlock, you are really going to need to work on your disguises. A fake moustache, changing your gait, and wearing one of John's old jumpers does not qualify."

"I thought I was doing so well too," he grumbled, tossing the fake moustache to the ground as we walked. "Mrs. Hudson didn't know it was me."

"Mrs. Hudson was more than likely humoring you dear."

"So what sort of disguise are you trying to take on by cutting all your hair off?" He asked, stripping off the jumper, revealing his purple button down shirt underneath.

"No disguise," I replied, taking his hand as he threw away the jumper. "You mentioned once that you liked my hair short."

"I do."

"Well, I cut it short for you and our wedding. It should be easier to manage and I'll go back to get a trim two weeks before we're married. And now we don't need to find a hair stylist. I can do everything at home." I looked at Sherlock for approval. "You do like it, don't you?"

"No. I don't." I winced, opening my mouth to retort. "I adore it. It brings out all of your loveliest features. I'm glad you decided to cut it."

I smiled. "I'm glad you like it. I was worried that you were lying to me."

"Since when have I lied to you?" I raised an eyebrow. "Never mind. Don't answer that question."

"I was going to say, would you like a document, a spreadsheet, or a slide-show?"

He opened the door for me and I stepped in. "You know, I don't lie to you as much as I do to other people."

"Well _that's_ reassuring," I could see him smile at the sarcasm in my voice.

"You'll catch on to my lies too quickly. I don't bother with you anymore. When you came home from the hospital that proved to me that you catch on quickly." We approached the counter and Sherlock looked at the woman. "We're here to taste-test your cake."

"Do you have an appointment?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Of course we do. It will be under Sherlock Holmes."

The woman froze. "Sh-Sherlock Holmes? The famous consulting detective?"

He sighed. "Yes. I suppose I should have expected this."

I giggled. "Pardon him. He's a bit cranky. Hasn't had his midday nap yet."

"That means you're Janine, right?"

I wrinkled my nose. "No, I'm not. I keep forgetting that that bitch plastered her face all over the tabloids. I'm Delilah, his _real_ fiancé."

"Pardon me miss. I'm only going by what-"

"You read in those trashy papers. Yes, I can tell. Now, is everything ready or will we have to wait longer?"

"The private room is ready. In it you'll find the twenty-two varieties of cake we offer. We can do up to seven tiers of cake and we can mix-and-match any kind that you'd like. If you have any questions, I'll be right outside the door. If you'll follow me."

She led us to a small room in the back, sunlight pouring in from the windows and skylights, flowers and greenery everywhere. On small circular tables were slices of cake, placards sitting in front of each plate. "As I said, if you all have any questions or decide what sort of cake you'd like, I'll be just outside the door."

The woman closed us in and I looked at all of the options. "So...where should we start?"

"Well, I can tell you that I don't want chocolate," Sherlock answered, going to flip the placards down of each chocolate cake variety. "This leaves us with fourteen different flavors to try."

"What about red velvet? That's not chocolate, but not vanilla either." I flipped the placard back up for that one.

"I've never had it."

"Then how do you know that you don't want to try it?"

He sighed. "Fine, we'll try it. Why don't we start with this one?"

We tried all fifteen different flavors and decided on a four layer cake, the base being vanilla cake with strawberry buttercream, the next tier another vanilla, this time with fresh raspberries, the third was a hazelnut-almond layer with caramel buttercream, and the last, surprisingly, was a red velvet layer with cream cheese frosting. We left the room, Sherlock handing her the placards, as well as a small note that he wouldn't let me see.

"Can you do that for the wedding?" He asked and I craned my neck to see the note, but he blocked my view.

"We'll do our best sir. You're certain that that's what you'd like as your layers."

"Very certain. You have my phone number?" The woman nodded to Sherlock. "Give me a call if you have any questions then."

"Wait, Sherlock, I think I left my wallet in the room." Sherlock sighed. "Miss, would you mind looking for it with me?"

"Sure."

"I'll be outside waiting." Sherlock left the store and I entered the small private room again.

"I don't know what he gave you and I don't want to know. Obviously he wanted it to be a surprise. But how much would it cost to do a small cake for him?"

"What kind?"

"Another red velvet. He seemed to really like that flavor. But, there was something special I wanted you to do for it."

"And what would that be?"

"Could you make it look like a deerstalker cap?"

The woman laughed. "We can do that."

* * *

I sat next to Sherlock in the cab, looking out the window. It was a rainy Saturday for London, windy as well, or else Sherlock and I would have walked to the cafe. Instead my fingers were drumming out a rhythm on my lap and my eyes were travelling from person to person, doing my best to deduce things about them before we sped by.

"Stop deducing," Sherlock said, not looking up from the newspaper he'd brought with him. "You're no good at it when you're nervous."

I sighed, sitting back in the seat. "I suppose you're right. I want this to be over with."

"We don't have to go," he answered, scanning over an article that had seemingly caught his eye. "I could call Donald and tell him you've fallen ill. Or we could not show up."

I shook my head, going to run my fingers through my hair before I remembered that I'd cut it. "No…it has to be done, if only for Maddie and Max. I miss them."

"Yes, I know."

"Don't you?"

Sherlock folded up his paper, frowning. "In a way. They were fun to tell stories to. And Max seemed like he was willing to learn about everything, much like Archie."

The cab pulled up to the curb and I got out, waiting patiently for Sherlock. I glanced inside the café, finding them in the back corner, my mother's back to us, Donald looking out the window nervously. He spotted me and quickly turned to speak with my mother, glancing up at me from time to time. We walked in, going directly to their table.

"Room for two more?" I murmured, standing next to them.

My mother looked up at me and I could see the sheer rage wash over her. Her knuckles turned white as she gripped her coffee mug tight in her hand. "What the fuck are you two doing here? I told you to keep away from my family!"

"We were invited here," Sherlock answered, grabbing two chairs from a nearby table, placing them down for us to sit. He blocked my mother into the booth. "We want to talk."

"There's nothing to talk about here and no one invited you. I made my point very clear that I wanted nothing to do with you two psychopaths!"

"Actually, I am a high-functioning sociopath. Do a bit of research if you don't know what that is. Your daughter is one of the kindest and most caring women I know. God knows where she got that from seeing as you are being a royal bitch. And to answer your question as to who invited us here, you need only look across the table at your husband." Sherlock took my hand as my mother turned her venom-filled glare onto Donald.

"We agreed that we would never go near these two ever again. I could care less if she rotted in a hole somewhere."

"Well, this has been a fun discussion," I said, going to get up. Donald grabbed my hand. "Let go of me."

"Sit, Delilah. I wish to speak with you." Donald turned his gaze onto my mother. "Gwen, if you are going to be difficult then I am going to ask you to leave. They are my children, not yours, and if I decide that they should be allowed to visit Sherlock and Delilah, then it is my decision. If you can keep your mouth shut and be respectful, you can stay. Which will it be?"

My mother pursed her lips before sitting back in the booth. "It's not like I can get out with Mr. Detective blocking the way. I'll sit and listen."

"Good. Now, when did you and Sherlock want to see Maximus and Madeleine again?"

"Well, we were hoping that all of you would come to our wedding. I know that you received the invitation. I would love to have them there." I tried to keep my voice calm, but I could hear the pleading tone. "If you and my mother don't wish to attend I understand. I can come down the night before and bring them back with me. They can stay with us and Sherlock and I will drop them off when we depart for our honeymoon."

"No. We are not going to your wedding. That's asking to get shot!"

"Gwen!" Donald snapped, slamming his fist onto the table. "I'm not giving you another chance. Behave or so help me God I will divorce you tomorrow."

The air was tense at the table and my mother glanced at me, glaring before settling down once more. "Fine dearest husband. Whatever you wish."

Donald turned back to me. "The wedding is when?"

"September. I'll resend the invitation."

"All of us will be there then."

"I need a cigarette," my mother said, poking at Sherlock's knee. "Get out of my way."

Sherlock moved, letting my mother out, watching as she walked out. "I believe I need a cigarette as well."

He got up, leaving Donald and I to sit there awkwardly. I looked down at my hands before looking up at him. "I am truly sorry about what happened to all of you. Especially Max and Maddie. I would have never-"

Donald held up a hand, taking a sip of his coffee before saying, "I've spent quite a few nights thinking about it. I've also spent quite a few days in therapy. Being tied up with a bomb strapped to your chest and then your two children nearly drowning…that will do a number on anyone. And I thought long and hard. You and Sherlock didn't have to rescue us. You could have left us to die. Instead, you risked your lives to get us. What was it you were chanting as your two friends were…were saving Madeleine?"

"Spare her…take me…" I murmured, blinking rapidly. "If anyone deserved to die, it was me, not her. Those children…they're important to me. They're…they're my family. All of you are. It broke my heart…but I understood why. You had to protect them."

"Well, I realized how foolish it was, my trying to protect them. There's obviously someone a bit more capable of doing it than I am." Donald offered me a smile and I smiled back. "You'd do anything for my children. I see that now. Which is why I am apologizing to you for being a blind idiot and not realizing this sooner."

"Thank you," I choked out and he handed me a handkerchief. I dabbed at the corners of my eyes. "You've no idea how much…how much this means to me. I've missed them."

"I know you have. And they've missed you. I can't wait for your wedding."

"Neither can I." I turned as I heard the bell above the door ring, watching as Sherlock and my mother walked back in, my mother's eyes red-rimmed, Sherlock looking uncomfortable. "I suppose their conversation went about the same as ours did."

As my mother approached, she began crying again and pulled me into a hug, holding me tight to her. I looked up at Sherlock, confused by this change of heart. He shrugged, sitting back down in his seat. My mother and I stood like that for a few minutes and I awkwardly patted her on the back, my face growing redder as more people began to look at us. She finally stepped back, looking at me.

"I'm so sorry Del."

"So am I," I replied. "Now, why don't we sit and enjoy some coffee?"

We all settled in and had a long chat. My phone rang and I looked at it, opening the message. I did my best to keep my composure as I read it. I looked up at them. "Well, its been nice sharing this moment with you all. But Sherlock and I have a few other things that we need to take care of for this wedding. I'll resend your invitation and mark you down as attending. Call you soon?"

"Any time you need to sweetheart," my mother replied, dabbing at her eyes with a napkin. "I'm always here for you."

"Thank you," was all I said as I got up from the table, walking out of the café, Sherlock following behind.

"What did they say?"

"There are three more letters left. C, K, and H. Can we guess who it could be?"

"Did they give any clues?"

"Not a single damn one. But Moriarty says that he's cashing in the I of his IOU. What do you think he means by that?"

"I don't know," Sherlock replied. "But whatever it is…it isn't going to be good."

We got into the cab and I looked out at the city as it passed by. What could my sister and her husband be planning? And who would it hurt this time?


	8. Chapter 8: Scotland Yard Psychopaths

***Hello lovelies. Somehow I managed to finish another chapter today. I think it was because the rain was so soothing and let me clear my mind enough to let the ideas flow. I will say, this does have a character death in here, so I am sorry if it upsets you. I had to do it though…please don't be angry with me! As always, feel free to leave me reviews/comments/questions. I'm always happy to answer. Have a wonderful day and I'll see you in the next chapter!**

 **Chapter 8: Scotland Yard Psychopaths**

I was in a drug-induced slumber when rough hands shook me awake. I came up swinging, but my wrists were caught by Sherlock. He was dragging me out of bed and down the hall. I felt my head spinning and I tried to fight against him. Finally I jerked out of his grasp, brushing my bangs out of my face.

"Sherlock, what on earth are you doing?"

"No time to explain. They've sent more letters. They-"

I was dashing for the computer open on the desk. I froze, staring at the images. Three hooded figures, all with brilliant yellow letters spray-painted on the front of them. I took in what each was wearing, two men, one woman, all hooded.

' _Business slacks, so all three of them have a job where they must look important. Government work maybe? Both men married, woman is African American. Nicotine stains on the man in the middle's fingers. Man on the right has an obvious nervous twitch as the photo blurred his left hand. The woman and the smoker have the print of a weapon on their side, so government work is the most likely option.'_

"Who are they?" I asked Sherlock. I felt as if I knew, but without their faces it was difficult.

"You don't know? What was it that they said when they text us last month?"

"That they were cashing in the I of the IOU?"

"And what do you think that our captives do for work?"

"Government work?"

"How many government workers do you know dress in cheap suits and carry Glocks on their hips?"

"Not many, but who-"

"Stop being blind and _think!_ "

I jumped at his shout, but peered at the photos once more. _'What does the I have to do with anything. Wait a minute...I…or eye. Private eye's would carry guns. And another name for a private eye is a-'_

"Detective. They're detectives. But who-" It hit me like a freight train when I finally realized who they were. "No. Not them. Why?"

"To get to me. They're strapped with enough PE-4 to take out a city block. All I have to go by are the photos that they sent me. Moriarty said in his email that we were to wait for their instructions."

"So, what, we have to sit here and wait while Lestrade is held hostage by those maniacs?"

"Don't forget about Anderson and Donovan. They're being held as well. At least they're all in separate areas."

"At least?!" I gaped at Sherlock. "What do you mean at least? If they were in the same area-"

"If they were in the same area then that would mean that there was greater risk of us getting blown up when we tried to defuse the bomb," he snapped. "Instead of all of us dying in a fiery explosion when we try to go for them, only the rescuer and the captive will die. Also any civilians that may be in the nearby area will die."

"And you're happy about that?"

"Better for one of us to die than all six of us."

I shook my head in disbelief. My phone began to ring in the back bedroom and I rushed back there, grabbing it off of the nightstand by my side of the bed. "Olivia, I swear to God, if you-"

"Olivia? Del, what are you talking about?" Mary asked, confused. "Where's Sherlock? Have you two seen the news this morning? John and I are on our way over now."

"News? What news?"

"Scotland Yard! They're calling it a terrorist attack. No one can get in or out of the building without being killed. Apparently some people burst in during shift change and managed to get everyone trapped in offices and cubicles. Anyone that tries to fight them is shot. Anyone that tries to leave is shot."

"Sherlock! Sherlock, turn the telly on!" I shouted, going back down the hall, finding Mrs. Hudson and Sherlock staring at the television. I could tell by the looks on their faces that what Mary was telling me was true. "Mary, how long until you and John are here?"

"About ten minutes."

"Make it five."

I hung up the phone, going to stare at the picture on the screen. There were a dozen or so bodies in front of Scotland Yard in the courtyard, blood pooling around them. The news crews were keeping far back, but even they were ducking behind their vehicles for cover. I could see the body of a cameraman in the street and I felt sick. I looked to Sherlock, who was staring at the screen, face unreadable. A soft sob came from the other side of Sherlock.

"Mrs. Hudson, stop crying. It's not like you know any of them," Sherlock snapped and I shot him a glare before going around him, wrapping an arm around Mrs. Hudson's shoulders.

"It's alright. It's alright. Come, let's sit you down. Don't you worry, we'll get them. Do you think that you can pull yourself together long enough to take care of the baby and Scarlett?"

She nodded, still crying and I led her over to the couch, easing her down, kneeling in front of her. Sherlock continued to stare at the television, no doubt trying to figure out where the snipers were. Or he was trying to figure out where Lestrade, Donovan, and Anderson were being kept. I took Mrs. Hudson's hands, doing my best to sooth her until Mary and John got there.

John burst through the door, Mary following close behind her. Sherlock had called someone and was talking with them in the kitchen. I quickly filled Mary and John in, explaining that there were three hostages at the same time. Mary was rocking the baby, her attention torn between the news, Sheryl, and what I was saying. John had sat down in front of the computer, staring at the images.

Sherlock came back into the room and I could tell that he was worried. "What is it Sherlock?"

"Molly and Irene are on their way over. Mycroft is busy and Lestrade is obviously unavailable for this case."

My phone began to ring on the desk and I answered it. "Delilah McKinley."

"Tell…Sherlock…that he must choose," Greg said and I could tell that he was under stress. "One person from his…little team for each…hostage. But don't dawdle…the clock is ticking. I will text with…more instructions."

"Greg? Greg, where are you?"

"Ha ha ha Del. I thought you were a clever girl," Greg's voice was dull and monotonous. I realized that someone was telling him what to say. "If he says one word he will die. Wait for my message."

The call ended and I looked up at the people in the room. I shifted uncomfortably under their gazes. Sherlock asked, "What did they say?"

"That they'll text with more instructions. They have an earpiece on Greg. He's the one I spoke to. He-" my phone buzzed in my hand and I glanced down, reading the text message from the unknown number. "I've gotten the hints."

"And? What do they say?" Mary peered over my shoulder to try and get a look. Molly and Irene walked in the door, looking at us curiously.

"The beginning, the middle, and the end. Three hours to find them. Choose your team." I looked up at the group, frowning. "That's all they've sent. What does that mean?"

Sherlock went to look at the photos again and I began to pace. "The beginning, the middle, and the end of what? I don't understand."

"Could they mean the beginning of when Sherlock and Moriarty met? Or perhaps it's the beginning of his cases?" Mary sat down on the couch next to Irene.

"Or it could be the beginning of life, where you'd be at the middle of your life, and then the end," Molly murmured. "That would mean a nursery or the maternity ward of a hospital, a university, and a morgue or a funeral parlor."

"That still doesn't tell us anything though," John protested. "There are well over a dozen places they could be and we only have three hours."

"Also, that doesn't solve the problem of Scotland Yard," Irene was staring at the television as she said this. "There are still all of those people trapped in there."

"Well, what-"

"Shut up!" Sherlock barked, causing all of us to jump. "Shut up for two seconds so I can actually think!"

"But-"

"Not a word Irene or so help me God I will gag you with one of Delilah's socks. Now be _quiet_!"

We all sat in silence, staring at one another. Irene had had the good sense to turn off the television. I opened the internet on my phone, browsing through the blog entries, trying to see if there might be a clue of some kind. I glanced up at Sherlock, seeing his eyes flitting from photo to photo, his fingers flying across the keyboard as he researched places.

"It's not where my first case was, so we can exclude those. It's not the first place that I met Lestrade, nor is it the first place that I met Delilah. The first place I met Moriarty? No, it doesn't look like Molly's lab." I scrolled down to the last entry and my eyes widened. I got up to show Sherlock. "Didn't I tell you to be quiet?"

"Yes, but Sherlock-"

"I told you, Delilah, that I am thinking and you disturbed me. You're going to get them killed!"

"Sherlock, I-"

"Do you want more blood on your hands?"

I winced and he seemed to realize what he said when Mary and Molly both gasped in shock. "Sherlock, it's their blog. Their first entry, their last entry, and their middle entry. Which, if we take the median of all of their posts, is entry number 311."

Sherlock pulled up the blog entries in question, reading them over carefully. "The London Eye, the sewers of London, and the playground." He went back to the photos. "Yes, it all makes sense. Lestrade is at the London Eye, Donovan is in the sewers, and Anderson is at the playground."

"How do you know?" Irene asked, getting up from the couch to look at the photos. "I mean, you can't believe that it would be that simple, can you?"

"To them we're stupid. We still haven't figured out how Moriarty lived, Ted died, and we nearly killed the two children. So they're overconfident and thinking that we won't figure these hints out in time, which is why they've made it so obvious." Sherlock's smile was growing. "In this picture with Lestrade, you can see that he's sitting on a brown bench, the same kind that they have in the Eye. Also, there's natural sunlight streaming in, meaning that there's a window around him."

He jammed his finger at Donovan's picture now. "The brick in the background is the same brick that you'd find in the sewers. Also, you can catch a glimpse of the piping going down the walls. There is no water on the ground though, meaning that this is a section of sewer that they like to keep from smelling. What areas of London would they like to keep from smelling?"

"Anywhere near Buckingham Palace and Parliament."

"Which leaves us with those two options. The best place to start is Buckingham Palace, which I have already informed Mycroft to have evacuated and blocked off in case terrorists should try to take that as well. Now, Anderson. You can tell that he's outside somewhere. Natural lighting, water on his shoes and the hems of his pants are soaked. Seeing as the playground where Delilah and her sister used to play is the last entry, he'll more than likely be there. This leaves us with the decision of who is going to rescue who."

"What about Scotland Yard?" I asked. "We can't leave them to be held hostage."

Sherlock frowned. "We have to help them first."

"There's six of us. Mary and I are your best shooters. We can go and take out the snipers in Scotland Yard, provided that Mycroft will provide us both with rifles and plenty of ammunition."

"But I'll need your help disarming the bomb."

I shook my head. "We can't leave all of those people down there to fend for themselves. We have to help them."

Sherlock sighed. "Fine. Molly and Irene, you two will go for Donovan. I'll sketch you the layout of the sewers underneath Buckingham Palace. When you reach Donovan, call me and I will walk you through how to take care of the vest. John, you and Bill will go and save Anderson. Bill is waiting outside for you. He'll know how to handle the bomb. I'm going after Lestrade as he'll be the most difficult. No doubt they'll have shut everything down and he'll be up at the top."

We all nodded slowly and I glanced over at Mary. "You ready to go and take out some terrorists?"

"Born ready. Mrs. Hudson, will you be alright watching Sheryl?"

"She'll be fine," Mycroft drawled from the doorway. "Brother mine, did you really think that I would be too busy to help?"

"Given your feelings on field work, I thought that you might not want to break a sweat today," Sherlock replied. "What are you doing here?"

"Going with you of course."

"If you're helping us then you'll go with Irene. Molly will come with me."

"Are you sure Sherlock? No doubt that they'll want you very dead when you get there."

"We'll be fine," Sherlock said through gritted teeth. "Did you bring weapons for-?"

"Delilah and Mary? Yes. Given Delilah's Messiah complex, I thought that she would go and try to rescue Scotland Yard."

"I do not have-"

"We'll have a psychology debate once everyone is safe," John broke in, heading off an argument. "We have the plan, we have the locations. Let's get going. But first...might I have a moment alone with Mary and my daughter?"

"Five minutes," Sherlock stated, walking out of the room and going downstairs.

"You two should spend those five minutes together as well. This is going to be dangerous," I muttered to Molly and Irene, who nodded, going down the hall to our bedroom to have a private moment.

I patted Scarlett on the head before going downstairs, finding Sherlock outside talking to Bill. Bill dipped his head at me and I gave him a hug. "Feel like I haven't seen you in ages Bill. How have you been?"

"Not too bad Del. Your husband's been keepin' me busy an' outta trouble."

"Not quite my husband yet, but I am glad that you're keeping out of trouble," I replied. "Do you mind if Sherlock and I have a moment before we go to battle?"

"Oh. Yeah, sure." He went to lean against the corner of the sub shop and I took Sherlock's hand, leading him down the sidewalk a bit.

"Go to battle, hmm?" Sherlock gave me a smile, but I could see the worry in his eyes. "You realize that I'll be fine, correct? It's a vest that's similar to the one that Donald was wearing and I'll have Molly to help me."

"It is battle with them. They throw every obstacle they can at us every time." I replied, gripping the front of his shirt lightly. "This time I think the whole point is to get to you somehow. Last time it was to get to me and it nearly worked. You have to promise me to be careful."

"You know I don't make promises that I can't keep." Sherlock frowned. "Why are you so worried?"

"Something doesn't feel right. I think you should go for one of the others. Or take your brother with you instead of Molly."

"They'll be fine."

"Sherlock, these aren't strangers that are strapped up. These are our friends. Well, at least Greg is. If they die, are you really going to be as calm and collected?"

"They're not going to die."

"I didn't think that Ted was going to die either, but-"

"They're not going to die!" He shouted and I stepped back, crossing my arms. "It's not going to happen. We have over two hours to get them. We'll be fine."

I sighed. "Fine. Be careful please. I'll text you if I hear anything else."

I walked away and he grabbed my hand, pulling me into his arms. "I'm sorry that I shouted at you."

"It's fine."

"No it's not. But you've already forgiven me for it."

"How can you tell?"

"You're not trying to hit me or shove me away. And you're looking up at me with your kiss-me eyes."

I raised an eyebrow. "My kiss-me eyes?"

"Yes. Your eyes get softer and your cheeks turn a slight pink. Your lips part minutely as well." He leaned down, pressing a kiss to my lips. "Feel better?"

"Maybe one more for the road," I murmured, standing on tip-toe, kissing him again, the taste of his mouth like a soothing drug to my frightened brain. I broke away when I heard Mycroft clear his throat. "Watch your back Sherlock. They've had since March to plan this."

"And you be careful as well. No doubt that they've found some decent snipers in four months' time." He brushed the bangs back from my face. "I expect my thief to come home in one piece."

"As I expect my detective to not end up in the hospital. Sherlock, I-"

"Oh good God, could you two _please_ hurry up? There are things that we have to take care of!"

"I love you too Lila. Go. Keep in touch."

I gave him a smile before running to where Mary waited beside her car. "Off to Scotland Yard then?"

"Yes. You think they'll be fine?" I followed her gaze to where John was walking away with Bill down the street.

"They'd damn well better be. The guns are in the back seat?"

"Mycroft put them back there himself. AS50's with armor-piercing rounds."

"Spare no expense to killing our enemies," I muttered under my breath. "Let's go and get some target practice then, shall we?"

* * *

Mary and I stepped out of the vehicle, having found bulletproof vests in the back underneath the rifle cases. We'd put those on before getting out and we approached the barricade that government officials had put up.

As we approached, the men snapped upright, aiming their guns. "Put your weapons down."

"I believe that you'll find that Mycroft Holmes authorized us to go in," Mary stated, keeping her voice calm. "We are here to eliminate the snipers, seeing as you all don't seem to be having any luck doing so."

The men shifted uncomfortably, but refused to lower their weapons. "We'll have to clear that with-"

"Listen to me and listen well," I said, keeping my voice low. "Mycroft Holmes, _the_ Mycroft Holmes, is going to be my brother-in-law in September. There are hundreds of lives in the building that need to be saved, nineteen snipers that need to be taken out, and probably two dozen more hostiles inside that building. If you would like to keep your job then you will lower your weapons and allow us through. If you would like to be terminated from your position, you will continue to point your guns at us and get clearance, wasting valuable time and potentially killing every person in that building." I approached the man in the middle that had been speaking. "Have I made my point clear?"

"Crystal clear," the man said through gritted teeth. He lowered his weapon. "Let them through. It's their funeral anyway."

Mary and I stepped through the barricade and I glanced around, seeing the dead bodies. I looked to Mary. "Where do we go for cover?"

"You take that island over there with the trees and bushes. I'll take the news van. I should be able to lay down across the front seats without them spotting me." Mary checked the chamber of her gun. "I'll move when you do, as they'll probably be distracted. We'll take out the shooters in that building there and then make a dash for it. You've got your handgun?"

"Never leave home without it."

"Good. We may need it. Shoot to kill, but if you only severely maim, we'll get them when we get up there." Mary's eyes had hardened and her American accent was coming through as she shrugged back into whoever she'd been before she became Mary Watson. "I never thought that I'd have to do something like this again, but here we are."

"Here we are," I murmured. "Ready when you are."

"Let's move then. We've got a minute and a half to take them out and another forty seconds to get to that building before the other snipers realize that we've taken out their friends. Think you can handle it?"

For my reply, I sprinted to the island that Mary had been talking about, rolling into cover as I heard bullets whizzing by. I set up my rifle, taking aim, firing. I watched as the sniper on the fourth floor dropped without a sound.

We dispatched them quickly, well under the minute and a half time frame that we'd established. Mary scrambled out from the van and we both sprinted for the building across from Scotland Yard. I shoved her inside as the bullets began to fly from inside of the police station. She and I took the stairs two at a time. We stopped on each floor a sniper had been on, checking to make sure they were dead. We paused on the top floor, catching our breath.

"How do you want to do this?" I asked, panting for breath, hands on my knees.

"Why're you asking me?"

"Because you've done this a hell of a lot more than I have," I replied. "I've only really shot things in a gun range. This'll only be the third time I've been in a live combat situation."

"Ah. Okay. Well then, you take the fifth floor and try to take out as many of the people in the building as you can. I'll work on the snipers in the other buildings from this floor." Mary's eyes widened and she drew her pistol, shoving me out of the way to fire at the man behind me.

He fell backwards, multiple bullet holes in his torso, but not before his handgun went off, striking Mary square in the chest. She tumbled to the ground and I knelt next to her, undoing the vest, checking her over with shaking hands.

"Mary? Mary! Are you alright? Can you hear me?"

"Fine," she wheezed, trying to push me away. "Vest got the bullet. Lucky for me he was using a .45 instead of a 9 mm."

I found no blood on her and I let out a sigh of relief, helping her to her feet. "You saved me."

"Don't mention it," she replied, picking up the rifle that she'd dropped to the floor. "Let's get these bastards. Nobody shoots at me and lives to talk about it."

I smiled, pressing a kiss to her cheek before running back down the stairwell. I set up my rifle, scoping out the situation in the police station. My phone began to ring as I placed my finger on the trigger to take my first shot.

"I'm a little busy," I said as I answered.

"I know. About to take your shots on the gunmen in the station," Mycroft said. "We're still combing the sewers for the woman. Haven't found a trace of her yet. I'm sending you the number of the men at the front that you threatened with my name. Did you enjoy wielding my power?"

"Get to the point Mycroft," I growled, setting my sites on a man on the second floor waving a pistol in a pregnant woman's face. "I've got some terrorists to kill."

"When you've killed all of the ones that you can see, my men will storm the building. Call them as soon as I hang up and keep them in the loop. We're going to keep searching. John and Bill have rescued Sherlock's fan, but I haven't heard from Sherlock and Molly yet." I felt my heart skip a beat. "I'm sure he's fine though."

"He better be," I murmured, ending the call. I dialed the number that Mycroft sent me, listening as it rang once, twice. I didn't give them a chance to speak. "This is the woman that demanded that you all let her through. I am going to clear the building and my partner is going to take out the other snipers. You will keep me on this call and when I give you the all clear, you will go and storm the building. Is that understood?"

"Understood ma'am."

"Good. Now, let's get this started."

I took a deep breath, aiming and firing, watching as the glass shattered and the man dropped to the ground. People began to move and I began to take it floor by floor, vaguely hearing Mary's gunshots above me. After a few minutes I scanned the building again for signs of the gunmen before shouting, "Go!"

I watched as the military men stormed the building and I grabbed my phone, ending the call, going up the stairs to where Mary was. I set my rifle down on the ground. "How many left?"

"Two," she answered before pulling the trigger. "Make that one. Have you heard from them yet?"

"I heard from Mycroft. John and Bill are safe." Mary relaxed immediately. "I still haven't heard from-"

My phone began to ring and my heart leapt to my throat at Molly's name. "Molly? Is Sherlock alright? Is he-"

"I'm fine Lila," Sherlock's voice was tight and I could tell that there was something wrong. "The three of us are fine."

"What's wrong?"

"We'll fill you in when we get back to the flat," Sherlock answered cryptically. I could hear weeping in the background. "It's not...we'll see you at the flat."

I hung up the phone, looking at Mary. "We're going back to the flat if we're done here."

"Just got one more sniper to take care of."

My phone chirped in my hand and I read the text message. "I'll take care of it Mary. Go and get the car ready."

"You sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. That was Mrs. Hudson texting me. She said that the baby was being fussy."

Mary became worried instantly. "I'll go and get the car. You sure you can take the last sniper?"

"You've got them pinned down?"

"I do."

"Then I will take care of it." I slid into Mary's spot, careful to keep the gun aimed where she had it positioned. "I'll be down in a minute or two after I take the shot."

Mary left and I heard the door to the stairwell close. My phone began to ring and I answered it, cradling it against my ear as I focused my aim on the red-headed woman at the top of the building diagonal to mine.

"Hello Del. Long time no chat. I'm guessing you received my message. How have you been? Finally allowed to see the children again?"

"No thanks to you. What do you want you psychotic cunt?"

"Only to talk while I have your attention. Have you heard the news yet?"

"News? What news?"

"The news about Donovan of course. You see, we couldn't let you get away with rescuing everyone this time, so we had her shot. Mycroft was a bit peeved of course, as we got blood on his clothing. Irene was so upset. The clever woman had thought that she'd figured it out and rescued her. Donovan seemed so excited too. The relief in her voice was almost tangible as Mycroft disarmed the bomb." The gun wavered in my hand. "Oh and you can put the gun down. It's not like you'll p-"

I pulled the trigger before she could say anything more. I could hear her cries of pain on the other end of the line. "Now, you listen here. If you come after my family or my friends ever again, next time I will put you in the ground. You and Moriarty are not breaking me, do you understand? Do you, you fucking bitch?"

All I heard on the other end of the line were gasps for air and moans of pain. There were footsteps in the background and a howl of rage. "What did you do? What did you do to her? Olivia darling, stay with me."

"I did what you all thought I wouldn't do." I kept my voice calm, staring through the scope at the spot where Olivia had once stood. "And I will do it again if you come after me. Consider this the O of your stupid IOU. Now, if you're smart, you'll leave us alone. Good luck avoiding the police and Mycroft's men with an injured wife. Ta-fucking-ta!"

I hung up the phone, slinging Mary's rifle over my shoulder, carrying my own in my right hand. I took the stairs quickly, trying to ignore the thoughts that were swirling around in my mind. I approached the car, forcing a smile as I threw the rifle into the back before sliding into the passenger side. Mary glanced over at me. "What took you so long?"

"Reverting back to your usual accent I see," I replied, leaning back in the seat, closing my eyes. Part of me wanted to tell Mary that Donovan was dead and that I'd shot my sister, but I decided that it wasn't the time or the place. "The bastard didn't want to poke their head over the edge. I spotted them three floors down and took the shot."

"Hmmm." Mary started the car, pulling away from the scene and heading towards the flat. "Anything else you want to tell me?"

"Nothing to tell. Let's get back to the flat. The others are waiting."

Twenty minutes later we pulled up to the curb and I got out first, going into the flat and up the stairs to find everyone sitting around, crying or stone-faced. Mycroft was absent, as well as Irene. Molly was on the couch next to Greg, crying into his shoulder. Anderson was staring blankly into space, John sitting next to him, focusing on his hands. Sherlock was at the window and I could see by his reflection that he was upset and in shock. Mary appeared next to me, look at everyone.

"What's wrong? What happened?"

John looked up at his wife and I could tell that he'd been crying. "Mary…you're alright."

"Yes, yes, I'm fine. What's going on? Why's Molly crying? Where's Mycroft and Irene?"

I took my vest off, setting it down on John's chair as John explained to Mary what had happened. Mary gasped in horror and Molly began to cry harder, Greg doing his best to sooth her. I went to Sherlock, touching his shoulder. He pulled away from me.

"I'm sorry Sherlock."

"For what? You're not the one that killed her. Sorry is a useless word. Take it out of your vocabulary because I don't want to hear it." His voice was cold and I put my hand in the pocket of my jeans.

"Where is Irene?"

"In your bedroom Delilah," Mycroft said from the kitchen. "I will warn you, she is very upset."

I nodded at him, stopping in front of him. "Are you alright?"

"As fine as one can be when they end up with brain matter splattered on them."

I looked into Mycroft's eyes, trying to see if there was a shred of humanity left in him. There was a flicker of uncertainty and I patted him on the shoulder. "You know Iceman, you don't have to pretend that everything is fine all the time. You've got my number."

He nodded his head slowly. "Thank you for your offer, but I will be fine. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a few matters to attend to." He dropped his voice. "Keep a close eye on my brother will you? He has as much of a Messiah complex as you do and while he won't admit it, he rather liked Donovan for her spirit."

"Of course. Don't I always?"

"Sometimes. Go and speak with Irene. She won't come out to speak with any of us, not even Molly."

I walked past Mycroft, going to open the door to our bedroom. I found Irene curled up in the corner, arms wrapped around Scarlett. I closed the door, motioning for Scarlett to stay. I sat down in front of Irene, waiting for her to move or acknowledge my presence before I said something.

"Why are you staring?" She muttered. "Didn't your mother teach you it's impolite to stare?"

"Are you alright?"

Irene chuckled darkly. "Am I alright? What kind of stupid question is that?"

"One that I have to ask." I hesitated before asking the fateful question. "What happened?"

"Well, I finally figured out where she was. We were three tunnels over from where they'd put her. When we arrived, we found her tied to a chair and hooded. I undid her hood and removed the gag while Mycroft worked on the bomb. He was undoing two of the wires in the back when I was struck across the face with the butt of the gun. She barely even had time to scream." Irene looked up at me and I finally saw that her right eye was swollen shut, a bruise forming on her temple. "They shot her in cold blood right between the eyes. If Mycroft hadn't shot the man, he would have killed me as well."

I frowned, seeing the pain in her one good eye. "Has John looked at that yet?"

"No and I don't want him to. I'm fine."

"Irene, you could have a concussion. Or a broken orbital socket. You should at least let him look."

"No! I don't want him to. I don't deserve it!"

I furrowed my brow, confused by her words. "Don't deserve it? How so?"

"She died because of me Del!" Irene shouted. "She died because I didn't hear the bastard. She died because I wasn't smart enough or fast enough. It's all my fault!"

I felt my heart break, not only because this was the first real emotion that I'd seen from Irene, but because I'd said the same thing when Ted had died. I snapped my fingers, Scarlett stepping away from Irene. I took the woman's hands as she wept, the tears falling from her eyes to the floor.

"Irene, look at me." She shook her head and I squeezed her hands. "Look at me!"

She looked up at me finally, the tears falling from her eyes, a thin trail of snot dribbling from her nostrils. I reached out, taking her face in my hands, careful not to hurt the right side. "You did everything that you could. Everything. And you did a good job. Donovan knew that you were doing the best that you were capable of doing. You figured out where she was before Mycroft did. That's a feat in and of itself. You did not pull that trigger. You did not kill her."

"B-but…she's dead…"

"Yes. She is. And it is heartbreaking and horrible and senseless. But you were not the one that killed her. You were the one who went to save her, who was nearly killed in the process. You cannot blame yourself for her death. _It wasn't your fault."_ She began to cry harder and I pulled her close to me, resting my forehead against hers. "Are you hearing me Irene? It wasn't your fault. It will kill you if you think that it was."

"I…I'm sorry…" Irene cried out, ragged sobs ripping from her throat as she threw herself into my arms. I held her tight, rocking her back and forth. "I'm so…so sorry…"

"I know. It's okay. Let it out. Let it out."

We sat like that until my legs went numb and her sobs became sniffles. She finally sat back, looking me in the eye. "You must think me ridiculous."

I shook my head, offering her a gentle smile. "I don't think that at all. I think that you're human. Now…why don't we go and get that eye of yours looked at?"

* * *

The sky was overcast at Donovan's funeral, the clouds threatening to open up overhead as we stood around the grave. Everyone in attendance was weeping. Everyone that was, except for Sherlock and I. We hadn't spoken for five days, which was how long it'd been since we'd all met at the flat after the rescues. He'd taken to sleeping on the couch or in his chair, if he even slept at all. There'd been many a time where he'd stayed up all night, refusing to go to bed. He also hadn't been eating, no matter what I tried.

Now we stood side by side in silence, Sherlock staring at the casket unblinkingly. Irene stood to his left and Mary stood on my right, John next to her. Molly and Greg were in front of us with Mrs. Hudson. Anderson wept like a child next to the casket. I frowned, wishing that I could comfort all of them.

The officiant spoke in a low baritone, but I'd tuned him out for the most part. They began to lower the casket into the grave and that was when Anderson lost his mind. "No! No, she's not dead! She can't be dead! Sally! Sally, please, wake up. WAKE UP!"

Greg and John stepped forward, leading Anderson away, Molly and Mary following to help. Anderson screamed the entire way, "Sherlock! Sherlock you were supposed to save her! This is your fault! ALL YOUR FAULT!"

I watched as they dragged him to where the cars waited and I took Sherlock's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. He gave me no response, watching as they lowered the casket into the ground. Everyone around us began to leave and soon we were the only two staring at the headstone. Sherlock knelt down, tossing some dirt into the grave before getting back to his feet, walking away.

"That's it then? Toss a bit of dirt on there, don't say a word?" I asked him and he froze mid-step.

He glanced over his shoulder at me. "What do you expect me to say? She's dead."

"I don't know, maybe how she was your friend and how you cared about her even though you didn't know how to express it. How no matter how much she irritated you, you enjoyed how passionate she was about her job, how you liked her much better than Anderson?" I stood there, watching as he turned to look at me. "You invited her to our wedding Sherlock. You obviously liked her at least a little bit. Show her some respect in these last few moments you have with her."

"You want me to lie at a dead woman's grave? Tell her that I cared for her when I really didn't?"

"It wouldn't be lying Sherlock."

"How do you know?"

"Because Anderson's words wouldn't have affected you the way they did if you didn't care."

Sherlock's face softened and he approached the foot of the grave, staring down at the casket. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again. I could tell that his brain was trying to come up with something to say. Finally, he began to speak.

"Donovan…first off, let me say that if I'd known your name was Sally I would have never let you live it down. I never cared much to learn first names of people. It was much easier that way, made them seem like less of a person and more of a thing that I could ignore. Secondly, I am in no way, shape, or form capable of giving speeches that have some meaning or emotion behind them. And thirdly…thirdly, you were the best damn detective that Scotland Yard had, better than Geoff-"

"Greg."

"Greg sometimes. You had an entire career ahead of you and I would have enjoyed working quite a few more crime scenes with you. You were great fun to battle wits with on an investigation and…you will be sorely missed. I wish…I wish I could have changed who went with who or who I went after. But I can't." Sherlock shifted uncomfortably. "I'll look after Anderson for you, make sure that no one else messes up their knees for him."

"Sherlock," I said warningly and I saw his lips twitch with a smile.

"I'll see you later…freak."

Sherlock turned on his heel, walking away from the grave, heading back towards our cab. I knelt in front of the grave. "Just so you know…I shot the bitch for you. You're welcome. Rest easy. Your watch is done now detective."

I got up, walking between the graves to go the cab. I sat down next to Sherlock in the backseat and we began to move, the rain splattering against the windshield. Sherlock took my hand in his.

"Lila?"

"Yes Sherlock?"

"Don't ever make me speak at a grave for the rest of my life. Please."

"No problem."

"Thank you." He paused for a moment. "Did you really shoot your sister?"

"Yes."

"How did it feel?"

I smiled slightly as I stared out the window. "Pretty goddamn good."

"Good."

"Sherlock?"

"Yes Lila?"

"We're going to get them, aren't we?"

"Definitely. No more deaths."

"No," I agreed, feeling his grip on my hand tighten. "No more deaths unless it's them."

"Agreed. Lila?"

"Hmmm?"

"Can we still keep Donovan's seat at the wedding?"

"Of course. I wouldn't have it any other way."

From the corner of my eye I could see the faintest of smiles on his face. Good. It was a start. But there would be a long way to go before any of us was recovered from what had happened because of those two psychopaths.

"One more letter," I muttered under my breath. "One more letter and they'll be done. Let's hope we can get ahead of them before they decide to cash it in."


	9. Chapter 9: Rehearsal Murder

***Hello lovelies. Three chapters in a week! Woohoo! I won't lie, I felt a little guilty for neglecting this for as long as I did. So…after this chapter will be the wedding and then the chapter after that will be the wonderful honeymoon. There is some smut at the end of this chapter and then the honeymoon chapter will obviously be more smut. I'm trying to make that part of my writing repertoire a bit stronger. Also, the restaurant in here is a real place. I've never been, I just looked it up and their menu actually fit a portion of the plot. As usual, I hope everyone is doing well and enjoying the story. Feel free to leave reviews/messages. Have a wonderful day and I will see you all in the next chapter!**

 **Chapter 9: Rehearsal Murder**

"Mycroft, where are we going?" I asked, holding Sherlock's hand. "You've been keeping the rehearsal dinner secret for the entire week. Tell us where it is."

"You haven't figured it out yet?" Mycroft smirked, sitting next to Irene at the other end of limo. "Come now, you've had plenty of time to figure it out, especially since you took your leave of absence from the clinic to focus on the wedding."

"That's the thing Mycroft. I've been focused on the _wedding_. You took it upon yourself to plan the rehearsal dinner." Sherlock gave my hand a light squeeze and I took a deep breath, trying to compose myself. "I thank you for planning this, but I would like to know where we're going. Some of the people here have food allergies."

"Only two of them have a known food allergy and they are your friend George and your cousin Regina. Both of whom are allergic to peanuts, am I correct?" I continued to stare at Mycroft and he sighed. "We are going to Coq d'Argent if you must know. It is a very fine restaurant. I know the chef personally and he will do everything in his power to make sure the night goes smoothly."

"Will they be able to handle as many people as we have?"

"Delilah, it's twenty-five people." Mycroft rolled his eyes, leaning back in his seat. "I'm certain that they'll be able to handle it. Besides, I made these reservations weeks ago. They know how many to expect. We'll also be outside tonight and thankfully the weather is holding up very nicely."

"What is this restaurant?" John asked. "I've never heard of it before."

Mycroft chuckled. "Of course _you_ haven't heard of it before. It's a high-end French restaurant. I highly doubted that you all have been there before. Their food is quite lovely. Irene, you've been there before, haven't you?"

"Once or twice on business," she replied, taking Molly's hand absent-mindedly. "I haven't been in a while though so it will be nice."

"What do they have there?" Mary questioned. "Is their food good?"

"Is their…really? Have you and your husband _never_ been to a French restaurant?" Mary glared at Mycroft. "The food is delicious. That's all that I will say, seeing as we've arrived at our destination. The others should be pulling in behind us."

The door opened and Mycroft stepped out. Sherlock held my hand, shaking his head. We waited patiently for everyone else to get out before Sherlock pressed a kiss to my lips. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine. I'm a little nervous for tomorrow but...I'm fine." I gave him a shaky smile and he touched my cheek gently.

"I can tell the driver to go somewhere else if you'd like to spend time alone with me instead of dinner."

I shook my head. "It's fine. Besides, I'm already dressed in the gown that your brother chose for me. I feel like I'm overdressed."

"You aren't. You look beautiful. Besides, I'm in a suit and tie. How do you think I feel?"

I chuckled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Come on, before we're missed."

Sherlock got out of the limo first, offering me his hand as I struggled to get out. As I finally made it to my feet, he placed his hand on my waist, walking me to where the others were standing. I'd balked at the outfit at first. It was a teal gown, with flowing chiffon and ruffles everywhere. It also exposed my back, which had been the biggest issue I'd had. Sherlock had done everything in his power to reassure me that the scars were barely noticeable.

A large gold belt wrapped around my waist, a small gold purse was slung over my shoulder, and a pair of emerald and diamond earrings-that I had no doubt cost more than what I'd made in my lifetime up to that point- hung from my earlobes. I stumbled in the heels for a split second, but Sherlock tightened his grip, helping me into the restaurant and to where we'd be spending the rest of our night. We stood by the table greeting everyone as they joined us.

Maddie came bounding up to Sherlock and I and I bent down to give her a hug. She pressed a kiss to my cheek. "Delly, you look like a goddess!"

"Do I now?" I said with a giggle, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "If I look like a goddess, does that mean you're my little fairy princess?"

"Can I be?" She asked, eyes wide.

"Of course you can," I laughed. "Now, go and say hello to Sherlock."

I straightened up to give Donald and my mother a hug. "I'm so glad you all could make it."

"Of course. We wouldn't miss the rehearsal or the wedding," Donald answered, pressing a kiss to my cheek. "You look lovely as always."

"Thank you. You two look fantastic yourselves. Where's Max?"

"I believe he was speaking with your friend John. He has had it in his head that he wants to be a soldier ever since he heard your friend was one," my mother said with a slight frown. "I'm pretty certain it's only a phase."

I forced a smile, not wanting to argue that being a soldier would be a noble undertaking. "Well, I'll say hello to him when he's done talking. I believe you're sitting down on that end. I'm not sure though. Mycroft set everything up for tonight so I've no idea where he placed anyone."

They left and Sherlock's parents appeared next. "Mr. and Mrs. Holmes! I'm so happy that you could make it!"

"Of course Delilah. We wouldn't miss this for the world. Our baby boy getting married to a lovely woman!" His mother pulled me in for a hug, pressing a kiss to my cheek. "You're one of the best things that could have happened to him."

"Thank you Mrs. Holmes. That means a lot to me."

She moved on to speak with Sherlock, who I could tell was quite uncomfortable. Mr. Holmes approached me, giving me a smile. "Come here Delilah."

I stepped forward and he pulled me into a tight embrace. I patted his back and he slipped something into the palm of my hand. I opened it to find a small silver and sapphire brooch. I looked up at him questioningly. "It was given to my great-grandmother at her wedding and she gave it to my grandmother at hers. My grandmother gave it to my mother, who gave it to my wife. Now I'm giving it to you. The old and the blue for your wedding if you will."

"Thank you," I whispered, wiping at the tears that were threatening to spill over. "This is one of the kindest things anyone has ever done for me."

"Oh Delilah dear, you look lovely!" Mrs. Hudson gushed as Sherlock's father stepped aside. She pressed a kiss to my cheek. "Where did you get that gown? I've never seen anything like it before."

"Mycroft brought it to me after we finished the rehearsal ceremony," I answered. "I believe you're sitting next to John, if you wouldn't mind going and taking a seat."

"Of course. We'll talk later. You must be so excited!"

"I am. I am. We'll talk tomorrow."

We greeted the rest of the guests before Sherlock and I sat down. Mary was on my right, John on Sherlock's left. Mycroft sat across from us with Molly on his right and Greg on his left. Mycroft had had the foresight to sit Irene next to Molly. The parents and my extended family were down towards the right end of the table and the close friends were down on the left.

I sat down next to Sherlock, taking his hand, leaning in to whisper, "Should we give a toast?"

"Already working on it." He grabbed his wine glass, getting to his feet. "Ladies and gentlemen, if I could have your attention please."

Everyone at the table looked at him and I smiled up at him. "Tonight, we are surrounded by those who love us most in this world, although why some of you tolerate us I'll never understand." There were nervous chuckles from everyone. "As I speak, I stand on the precipice of one of the most daring and, quite frankly, terrifying adventures I've ever taken in my life. After tomorrow morning, life as I know it will be changed, for good or bad. Tomorrow I take this intelligent, loving, stubborn woman as my wife, my permanent partner in solving cases. But tonight...tonight she and I celebrate this unexpected love with the ones in our life that we love and cherish most."

"Please rise and toast our love and our future marriage."

Everyone at the table rose and we all raised our glasses. My hand never left Sherlock's as I stood next to him. We set our glasses down and Sherlock pulled me next to him, dipping me backwards and kissing me in front of everyone. He straightened me back up and I smiled at him, blushing slightly.

"Where did that come from?" I murmured as we sat back down.

"I'm not sure. It felt like the right thing to do." He pressed a kiss to my temple. "Now, what do you want to eat?"

"I haven't had a chance to look at the menu. Hold on."

Everyone at the table finally ordered their first courses and they came quickly. Sherlock and I shared our first courses with one another, Sherlock feeding me escargot- which I was a bit hesitant to try- and I feeding him my terrine de canard. The plates were whisked away and we waited for the second course. As we waited, John grabbed his glass, getting to his feet.

"Hello. Could I...could I have everyone's attention?" The table grew quiet once more, turning their attention to the doctor. "Alright, well, that was easy. Now, I'll be giving a longer speech tomorrow, seeing as I'm Sherlock's best man. But I wanted to take the time to talk about these two and how far they've come. It's quite the tale, but I'll give the short version."

John looked at the two of us, giving us a smile. Sherlock was leaning back in his chair, a grin on his face and I was curled up next to him, his arm wrapped around my shoulder. "In the beginning of December nearly two years, a ragged, dirty, homeless woman ran up to me off the street as I was trying to enter the flat that Sherlock and I shared. I was in shock and unable to say anything. I was even more surprised when Sherlock reached out and dragged the woman inside. It wasn't until he said something that I realized the woman was dying of an asthma attack. We did everything in our power to save the woman we came to know as Delilah McKinley."

"Fast-forward to that Valentine's Day. Sherlock was at home cooking. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, you heard me, cooking." There were chuckles from everyone at the table. "When I asked Delilah about it, she said she had no clue. It's why I was stunned when I found out that the person that Sherlock was cooking for was the woman that I thought he despised. I watched, as time went on, an unbreakable bond begin to form between these two. Where Sherlock was once a cold, calculating, tactless asshole," John looked at Sherlock to grin at him, "Delilah changed him. He can still be tactless, cold, and calculating, but this woman that he is going to choose to call his wife, cultivated in him a humanity that I didn't think was possible."

"Tonight I wish to recognize not the man who has been my best friend for many years, but the woman who has made the man I knew into the man that I thought he could be." I looked up at John in awe, feeling the tears stinging my eyes. "Delilah McKinley, soon to be Delilah Holmes, you have done what I and nearly everyone else at this table thought was impossible. Not only that, but you have proven to everyone here that you have the heart and patience of a saint and a love that knows no boundaries. So I ask now that we raise our glasses to the future Mrs. Holmes and the love and kindness she has shown all of us."

Everyone raised their glasses and I blushed, raising mine as well. As we finished the toast, the main course was brought out. Again, Sherlock and I fed one another and I enjoyed the attention that he was giving me. He and I finished first and I pressed a kiss to his lips before taking a sip of my wine. He leaned over, pressing a quick peck to the side of my cheek and I smiled.

"What did you do that for?"

"Because I wanted to show you how beautiful I thought you were tonight." He took a sip from his own glass. "That and I could tell the speech that John gave touched you."

"It was unexpected," I murmured. "But I thought he did a fine job with it."

"Mycroft will probably give a speech next. Thought I'd give you a warning as I've no idea what he might say."

I gave him a small smile. "Thank you darling."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw George waving at me. I pressed a kiss to Sherlock's cheek before rising, crossing to where George was sitting. "What is it?"

"Can we go and talk somewhere? Somewhere private?"

"Sure, but only for a moment. They should be coming to take away plates in a few minutes." We walked inside to the bar and I looked at him patiently. "What is this about George?"

"Well...I've been thinking...I'm not really cut out to run a taekwondo school anymore. In fact, the only reason that I still have it is because my father convinced me to take it over. So, I wanted to ask you if...if you'd like to have it? Think of it as my wedding present to you."

"George, are you...you can't be...really?"

"Yes, really. I've got the paperwork in my pocket. Thought that we could sign it before dessert." He pulled it out, setting it down on the bar, taking a sip of the drink the bartender had set out. "You're way better at this whole martial arts thing than I am. And you have passion for it. My father said that if you don't have passion for it then it means nothing. Go ahead, sign the bottom and it's all yours. I'll still work for you of course, but only part-time and only front desk."

I signed it quickly before throwing myself into his arms, giving him a hug. "Thank you George. Oh my God, thank you. Thank you so much."

"Yeah, well, you're welcome. And sorry for trying to get with you and everything. I'm glad your fiancé and I talked that one day. He made me realize how much I love my girlfriend. In fact, I proposed to her last week. We're going to be married next spring." He gave me a smile. "So, thanks for that and good luck on everything."

"You too. Come on, let's get back before we're missed."

We returned to the table and Sherlock looked at me curiously. I leaned over, murmuring, "I'll tell you about it later when we get home."

The dessert arrived and this time, Sherlock and I had both ordered the crème brûlée. As we fed each other, I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. I glanced up to see a familiar face glaring out at us. I pulled away from Sherlock, nodding to the spot where Janine had been standing not two seconds before.

"What is it?"

"Janine is here."

"Janine? What would that woman be doing here?" Sherlock sighed. "Are you sure you're not seeing things?"

"No, Sherlock, I am not seeing things."

"It's impossible for Janine to be here," Mycroft said from across the table. "My people have been keeping an eye on her for the past three weeks to make sure that she wouldn't interfere with the wedding."

"If you two say so...but I could have sworn-"

Everyone at the table froze as George shoved away from the table, clutching at his throat. His fiancé was standing next to him, pounding him on the back. "Someone help him! Please! He's choking!"

John was rushing to the man's aid, doing his best to expel the object. I got to my feet, trying to get everyone back and away from the chaos. I looked at my mother and Donald. "Get the children inside and away from this. Please."

They both nodded and got the children inside. George had collapsed at this point and I went to help John.

"He wasn't choking," John stated, feeling for a pulse before he began compressions. "It's an anaphylactic reaction to something. I didn't think that anything had peanuts in it."

"It shouldn't have," I replied, switching off with John. "Does he have an Epipen?"

"No, he doesn't have one. His girlfriend says that he usually does though."

Sherlock called paramedics, who came and took him away, still doing their best to work on him. The entire group of people was silent, looking at one another in shock and sorrow. I ran a hand through my hair, shaking my head. How could this have happened.

George's fiancé looked at me from her spot by the door, eyes filled with tears and hatred. "You killed him. You poisoned him!"

"What?" I asked, feeling the heat rising up in my face. "What are you talking about? Why would I want to poison him? He obviously had an allergic reaction to something!"

"Yeah because _you_ slipped him something! You must have, seeing as the only time he wasn't around any of us was when he went inside with you!" She shouted, shoving me. I began to topple in my heels and she threw herself at me. "You killed him for the school! Admit it! Admit it you bitch!"

Sherlock and John pulled us apart and I dusted myself off, Greg and Mycroft dragging the enraged woman into the building. Police began to inspect everything and Greg came back in, pinching the bridge of his nose. "What on earth happened? That woman in there said that somehow you slipped George something with peanuts in it, trying to kill him over the school that you teach at. Is that right?"

"What? No! That's not it at all. George was going to give me the school as a wedding present." All eyes were on me now. "That's what we were discussing inside. He has the paperwork on him in his jacket pocket. The bartender heard the entire conversation. Ask him!"

"Sit down and I will be right back," Greg said, snapping his fingers and pointing at a chair. "At this point in time everyone is a suspect."

I sat down shakily, Mary sitting next to me, taking my hand. "Are you alright Del?"

I shook my head. "No, I'm not alright. Someone is making it seem like I tried to murder my co-worker over a wedding present! This is absurd! I'm not a murderer!"

"I know that. I mean, there could have been peanuts accidentally on something and it got mixed in. I'm sure they'll get it all sorted out in a minute." She patted my hand and I tried to smile, but found that I couldn't.

"Mary...I think that Janine is here."

"Janine? But why?"

"I don't know. But I'm almost positive that I saw her right before George started having his episode. I'm certain she had something to do with this. I don't know how to prove it as no one else saw her." I ran a hand through my hair, making it stand on end. "This is so frustrating. You all have to know that I wouldn't do a thing to hurt George."

"We're not so sure about that," Greg said from the doorway and we all looked up.

Sherlock went to stand in front of me. "What do you mean by that Lestrade?"

"I mean that George has been pronounced dead at the hospital and the bartender says that he saw you slip something into his drink at the bar. He also says that you two were arguing about how much it was going to cost to sell the school and that you were upset about the price." Greg produced handcuffs and I was surprised as Mycroft went to join his brother in front of me.

"You can't seriously believe that Delilah would kill someone at her own rehearsal dinner the day before her wedding?" Mycroft sneered. "If you think that then you're bigger idiots than I thought you were."

"Sir?" An officer said from behind us, holding my purse in one hand, an Epipen in the other. "Is this what you were looking for?"

My face paled. "That's...that's not possible."

"Who's it prescribed to?" Greg asked softly.

"A Mr. George A. Longest."

Greg frowned, stepping forward, handcuffs dangling from his right hand. "I'm sorry, but...Delilah McKinley, you are under arrest for murder."

"I didn't do _anything_!" I shouted from my seat. "I didn't do a single damn thing! It was Janine! I'm telling you, Janine is here and she's trying to set me up. Sherlock...Sherlock, you have to believe me!"

"There's no way that Janine can be here Delilah." Mycroft's voice was pained, but he stepped aside to let Greg through. "Come brother. Let the man do his job."

"John...Mary...you two both know I would never hurt anyone. Ever. Especially not for something like a taekwondo school." Mary refused to look at me and John stared up at the sky. "Why would I try to save him if I wanted to _kill_ him? Please, you have to believe me."

Greg began to approach, but stopped short in front of Sherlock. "Sherlock, either let me through or I'll have you arrested for obstruction."

Sherlock looked down at the man. "That is my soon-to-be wife. I know her better than anyone. She didn't kill George."

"Sherlock, I am only trying to do my job."

"Give me a half-hour Lestrade. A half-hour to prove her innocence. That's all I'm asking for."

I began to cry as Greg glared up at Sherlock. "Thirty minutes. That's all you're getting. I'll have her in the car downstairs."

Greg approached me and I rose as gracefully as I could to my feet, holding out my wrists. I took a deep breath, trying to get control of my tears as Greg snapped the handcuffs on me. "Do what you have to do Greg. But I am telling you that I didn't kill him."

Greg led me through the dining area and out to the car, putting me in the backseat. "I don't want to do this to you. If you really are innocent, Sherlock will prove it. But if you're not...you need to tell me now." I kept quiet and he sighed, rolling down the window a crack up front. "I really liked you Del. I thought you'd make him happy."

"I do make him happy and I intend to be married to him tomorrow." I stared straight ahead at the back of the seat. "See you at the wedding."

Greg shook his head, walking away to go back inside. I glanced at the clock on the dash. 21:32. That meant that by 22:00, everyone would know that I was innocent. Either that or whatever scheme Janine had cooked up had worked. I closed my eyes, bowing my head and praying.

When I looked up again, it was fifteen minutes later. Someone had slid into the front seat and started the car. "Excuse me, but Greg said that Sherlock had a half hour to prove I was innocent."

"And they're about to. I figured you were getting a bit cold in the car. Having a lovely night tonight?" The detective asked from the front seat.

I laughed bitterly. "I'm in handcuffs at my own rehearsal dinner and my wedding is tomorrow. How lovely a night do you think that I can have?"

"Oh, I don't know, probably a lovelier time than the last time we saw one another when you were slamming me into a wall." My dark eyes met hers in the mirror. "Hello bitch."

"Hello Janine," I replied calmly. "Come to exact your revenge the night before my wedding? How unoriginal."

"You would know about being unoriginal, wouldn't you? Couldn't come up with a creative insult towards me if your life depended on it." She turned in her seat, giving me a wolfish grin. "Tell me, how does it feel to watch your entire world crumble around you?"

"I wouldn't know seeing as Sherlock is about to figure out what it was you did to kill George."

"Ah yes. Good old George. I debated on whether or not I should kill your cousin instead, but I thought that if I did that your sister would get the credit for it. And when I saw you two go to the bar, well, that was when I saw my chance."

"How did you do it?"

"You mean you haven't figured it out already?" She pointed a gun at my chest as she spoke. "You aren't smart enough to figure out how I managed to pull it off without you, Sherlock, or Mycroft noticing?"

"Enlighten me." I glanced over her shoulder for a split second before smiling. "Please. I'm all ears."

She relaxed ever so slightly, but still kept the gun aimed at me. "It was easy really. Pay off the bartender and the chef, pose as one of the wait staff. You're not the only one who can pickpocket you know. When I was serving you all at dinner, I stole the Epipen from George's pocket and planted it in your pocketbook. When dessert was to be made and brought out, I had the cook coat the apple for George's parfait in a gourmet peanut oil before cutting it up. You see, the processed peanut oil you find in stores won't kill someone with a peanut allergy. But the gourmet stuff, the _unprocessed_ oil, will. All that was left to do was wait. But that was only the rehearsal murder." She cocked the pistol. "Yours will be the main event."

"Is that your confession then?" Sherlock asked, peering in through the window. "Hello Janine."

As she turned her head, I was reaching up, grabbing the barrel of the gun, jerking it to the right. It went off and my ears began to ring. I wrestled her for the gun despite the handcuffs, shouting, "I could use a little bit of help here!"

Three pairs of hands were on Janine and she pulled the trigger multiple times, no doubt hoping that she could at least hit me with one of the shots. The gun began to click and Greg was grabbing me, pulling me out onto the street, unlocking me from the cuffs.

I couldn't hear a word he was saying as my ears were still ringing. I saw Sherlock and Mycroft pulling Janine away and before I or anyone else could stop me, I was kicking out of my heels, sprinting towards the woman and tackling her to the ground. She held up her hands to defend herself, but there was nothing that she could do to fend off my blind rage. My fists were flying, slamming over and over into her face and throat and chest. I didn't care where I hit, so long as I hit her.

"Stop...trying...to ruin...my…fucking...WEDDING!"

Someone finally pulled me off and I struggled against them, trying to break free. I was slammed into the side of a vehicle and pinned there. "Sister, please do behave out in public. You're ruining your gown."

I struggled against Mycroft, but he wouldn't let go. I finally stopped resisting, panting for air. Mycroft continued to lean against me and I watched as Sherlock and Greg dragged Janine to her feet, her face a bloody mess as she staggered around, barely conscious.

"Remind me not to cross you when you're angry," Mycroft muttered and I only stared at the brunette, stone-faced as Greg led her to the squad car that I'd been sitting in. "And apologies for thinking that you were the one who killed George."

"How did you figure it out?" I asked loudly and Mycroft pressed a finger to his lips.

"All in good time. Let's let you relax first. We're going back to the flat. All family members are being taken back to the hotel. It's going to be your wedding party at the flat. Greg will join us after he's done taking Janine to the hospital." Mycroft led me by the elbow to the limo, putting me inside. "I am glad that you're not a murderer."

"I never have been," I replied, moving myself into the back corner. "Would you mind grabbing my shoes for me? I rather like those heels."

Mycroft sighed, but left me alone, no doubt in search for the shoes. I placed my head in my hands and began to cry. The door opened and someone got in, closing it behind them. "Oh Mycroft, please leave me alone. I don't need you making fun of me."

"It's me," Sherlock's voice was soft, calming. He sat down on the seat, scooting in next to me. "Are you alright?"

I shook my head, wiping away my tears. "No, but I will be. Leave it to us to have a murder at our rehearsal."

Sherlock chuckled. "And leave it to you to be accused of murder. Should we add that to your portfolio of things that you can do?"

I gave Sherlock a watery smile. "Maybe. If I was actually a murderer. How did you figure it out?"

"It wasn't easy," Sherlock confessed. "Being on a time crunch does add a bit of excitement to it though. Once I realized what had happened, I was kicking myself for being so slow. It was quite simple really once I-"

"Sherlock. You're rambling." He looked at me with a frown. "I'd like an answer before we have to go to bed tonight."

"Right. Yes, of course." He straightened his jacket, leaning back in the seat. "The parfaits were different."

"What?"

"The parfaits. Mary and your mother had both ordered the parfait as well as George. On closer inspection, I realized that George's had the skin on it, whereas Mary's and your mother's did not. I tested my theory by getting your cousin Regina to take a bite of his. When she began to have an allergic reaction as well, we-"

"Wait. You gave my cousin an apple that was possibly coated in peanut oil? You could have killed her Sherlock!"

"She had her medication!"

"Sherlock, you can't use someone's allergies to prove that you're right about a case!"

"Well, it kept you out of prison, didn't it?"

I sighed. "Is my cousin alright?"

"Perfectly fine. She took her medicine and Mary attended to her until we thought it to be safe enough for her to be driven to the hospital. After that, it was simply a matter of putting pressure on the dessert chef and the bartender to get them to confess. I was coming out to release you when I saw Janine in the car. When I realized she was giving you her confession, I listened in, recording the entire thing." He smiled, producing his phone, playing a part of the recording. "So, you are free and clear of all murder charges and I believe that Lestrade was going to put your attacking Janine down as self-defense and shock."

"Good. Well that's great." I glanced down at my hands for the first time since I'd attacked Janine, realizing that the knuckles were sore and there was blood all over them. "You'd think I was a murderer if you looked at my hands."

Without a word, Sherlock pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, dipping it into the melting ice water from the bucket that was for the champagne. He cleaned my hands, inspecting them closely as he wiped the blood away. "You'll have bruises on your knuckles tomorrow, as well as a couple of scrapes. Can you move your hand?"

I clenched and unclenched it, only grimacing slightly. "I didn't break anything, although it would have been worth it. So, how did she manage to get away from Mycroft's men?"

"Paid a cousin of hers who looks similar to her. Switched clothes when she came over to visit three days ago. They only realized what had happened when Mycroft called them and ordered them to go up to the house...needless to say they're being reassigned elsewhere." The door opened and Mary and John climbed into the limo, as well as Molly and Irene. "Where's Mycroft?"

"Still dealing with the police and the people who were supposed to be keeping an eye on Janine," Molly answered. "How are you doing Delilah?"

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"I said I'm fine," I snapped and Sherlock touched my arm. "I'm sorry...its been...you know what, I'm going to forget that this incident ever happened. Tomorrow is my wedding and the murder has been solved. What more could I ask for?"

Mycroft climbed into the back. "Sorry, bit of a madhouse. Only you and Delilah would have a murder at your rehearsal dinner."

"Well, we had a murder almost happen at our wedding," John said and I laughed.

"Trying to make it a competition now? Next thing you know, there'll be a serial killer roaming around for your daughter's birthday." That got the entire car laughing, including Mycroft. "Come on everyone, let's go back to the flat. We can discuss everything there over drinks."

* * *

It was one-thirty in the morning when everyone finally left. Explanations had been given, stories exchanged, and plenty of alcohol had been involved. I'd had to call a cab for Mary and John so they could relieve the sitter. Mycroft was asleep on the couch, Lestrade on the floor next to him, and Molly and Irene had taken the guest bed upstairs. Sherlock and I laid in bed and I glanced at the gown hanging in the corner before smiling up at the ceiling.

"What are you smiling about?"

I rolled over to face him. "I'm smiling about that fact that this time tomorrow I will be Mrs. Delilah Claire Holmes, wife of the world's most famous consulting detective."

"Hmmm. And that makes you happy?"

"Why wouldn't it?"

"Well, marriage is an awfully big step for two people to make. Quite frankly, I despised the institution for years."

"What made you change?"

"I matured."

"Sherlock."

He sighed before turning to face me, pulling me into his arms. He leaned down to whisper in my ear, "I changed because of you. Because I found someone who was willing to see who I am and accept that part of me. I changed because I love you."

I looked up at him, touching the side of his face. "I love you too. I will always love you."

He leaned down to kiss me and I pulled him close, tasting the refreshing mint of his toothpaste as well as the faintest hint of vodka from our drinking earlier. His tongue met mine and I shuddered at the kiss, feeling that same flash of electricity jolt through me. He unbuttoned the front of my pajama shirt as he lightly nipped my lower lip before kissing along my jaw and down my neck. I stifled a moan as his lips brushed against my hard nipple.

"Hmmm...should I make you wait until our wedding night?"

"I swear, if you do I will call the entire thing off Sh-" My words turned into a breathy moan as he began to suckle, his tongue swirling around the nipple. "Mmmm."

His kiss travelled lower and he teased me, tugging at the hem of my underwear with his teeth, finger brushing up and down the outside of my underwear. Sherlock pressed a kiss to my stomach before giving me a smile. "Someone's a bit eager, aren't they?"

"Sherlock...please…"

"I don't know. Have you been good enough lately?"

"Sherlock."

"Hmmm?" He tugged the underwear down, slipping one finger into me. "What was that?"

"Come on Sherlock. I've been good. Please."

"I'm still not certain." He murmured in my ear, finger slowly sliding in and out, thumb circling my clit. "Convince me."

"How?" I groaned, lifting my hips, whimpering as he pulled away.

"Show me," he crooned in my ear, pulling his hand away. "Show me that you want it."

I placed the palms of my hands on his shoulders, flipping him to his back. I nibbled on his earlobe, delighting in the soft moan that I enticed from between his lips. I began to kiss his neck, sucking the skin where his neck and shoulder met, feeling him shudder beneath me. I moved lower and lower until I came to his own underwear. I pressed a kiss to the erection underneath his boxers and he let out a soft sigh.

"What?" I purred, glancing up to see him staring at me. "Would you like me to help you with something?"

"Tease."

"So are you," I said before yanking his underwear down, mouth wrapping around his hard cock, going down until he was touching the back of my throat.

My hand wrapped around his shaft as I came back up, tongue teasing him as he thrust up into my mouth. I smiled, ever so slowly sinking back down. I applied the slightest bit of suction and Sherlock let out another groan, gripping the sheets around him tight. I continued this torturous pace until he let out a low growl, fisting his hand in my short hair, forcing me to look at him. I smirked at him.

"What's the matter?"

He growled again and I was on my back, legs on his shoulders as he buried himself deep inside me. I gasped, surprised by his strength. But my surprise turned into ecstasy very quickly. My fingernails dug into his back and he groaned, his pace quickening. Our breath came out in ragged gasps and I met his eyes, wild and filled with passion.

"Go with me," I panted out.

"Are you sure?"

"Aye."

His finger found my clit and he began to rub it in small circles as his thrusts came deeper and faster, growing wilder. I'd never seen this side of Sherlock, but it thrilled me. Without warning I was orgasming, clenching around him. As I did, he was moaning my name, hands tightening on my hips, eyes half-closed in ecstasy. We stayed coupled together for a minute or so before I untangled us. Sherlock laid down next to me, a thin sheen of sweat on his skin, his hair a mess.

"Better?" I asked, laying down to look at him.

"Mmmm."

"Worth it?"

His eyes flicked open and a lazy smile blossomed on his face. "What do you think?"

"Well, my powers of observation tell me yes, it was."

"And you would be right." He got up from the bed. "I'm going to wash my face and then I'm going to bed. We have to be up early in the morning."

"You really think that either one of us is going to be able to sleep tonight?" I asked, propping myself up on my elbow, admiring his naked form as he disappeared into the bathroom. "I doubt we'll be able to."

I heard the sound of running water and I laid back in the bed, staring up at the ceiling, feeling completely at peace. He came back in, wiping at his face with a towel. "You need to at least rest your eyes. There's only four hours until you have to be up and at Mary's to get ready. It's all choreographed. You know this."

"Yes, I know. And the honeymoon is all set?"

"I've already booked our plane tickets." He pressed a kiss to my forehead. "Stop worrying and go wash your face before bed."

"Fine." I got out of bed, grabbing my shirt from the floor, buttoning it back up slowly. "But I expect you to tell me where it is we're going for our honeymoon."

"I told you, it's a secret."

I rolled my eyes, closing the door to the bathroom as I used it. "You know, I have a right to know."

"Not this time." I could hear the glee in his voice and I sighed. I washed my face quickly before walking back out, finding him in bed. "You know I have to keep some secrets from you."

"Whatever makes you happy," I replied, crawling into bed, forcing myself into Sherlock's arms, burying my face in his chest. "Sherlock?"

"Yes Lila?"

"Are you certain that you want to marry me?"

"Yes Lila." He pulled me closer to him. "Are you?"

"I am. I've been certain since the first time you said that you loved me."

"Good. Now go to sleep."

"I'll do my best. You too."

I began to doze in his arms, visions of my wedding gown and his kiss filling my mind. Tomorrow was the big day, the day I would change from Delilah McKinley to Delilah Holmes. I smiled at the sound of my new name before drifting deeper into the realm of dreams.


	10. Chapter 10: Mr and Mrs Holmes

***Hello everyone! Sorry this has taken me so long. Next chapter is the honeymoon, so it is going to be filled with smut. If you don't want to read about that, then I suggest you skip it. After that, things are going to pick up for our lovely couple. After all, Moriarty and Olivia are still out there and still waiting to give the couple their wedding present. I hope everyone is enjoying this. Questions, comments, and concerns are always welcome and I will see you all in the next piece!***

 **Chapter 10: Mr. and Mrs. Holmes**

"How are you feeling this morning?" I asked Mary as I walked into the home, wedding dress and gym bag over my shoulder. Molly and Irene staggered in behind me, looking like hell.

"How much did I drink last night?" Mary moaned, clutching her head, the baby sitting on the floor on a small play mat.

I laughed. "Enough that I had to call a cab to take you all home. Come on, let's get everyone ready. It's a big day."

The women all groaned and I laughed once more. "I can get myself dressed. You all get some tea and toast in you."

"How are you not hungover?" Irene grumbled, stumbling to the cabinet, pawing through the spices and boxes to find the tea. "You drank as much as we did."

"Mmmm, not quite. I only had three drinks and the one glass of wine at dinner." I disappeared into the bathroom, hanging the gown on the curtain rod and setting the bag on the toilet. "You all on the other hand had about five to seven drinks, plus a glass of wine or two at dinner.

I opened the bag, going through it, finding the smaller make-up bag, as well as the veil and the styling cream for my hair. I'd bought it from the salon at Carissa's recommendation. She and I had talked a lot since our first meeting and I was very happy that she had already spoken to the law firm and they were willing to give her some time shadowing the barristers while she was in school. She'd even come over a couple of times and met Sherlock. He too had astounded her with his abilities of deduction and had actually delighted in it, which had made him like her in return.

I styled my hair quickly before grabbing the make-up bag. The women were all shuffling around, Irene still moaning about her head. I was nearly finished with doing my make-up when Mary came in, already in her gown, hair lightly curled. She'd brought the baby with her and I took Sheryl, pressing a kiss to her cheek. The baby cooed, reaching for my face.

"You look stunning as always," Mary complimented and I moved out of the way so that she could do her own make-up. "I don't understand how you manage it."

"I had help from a friend one time on how to put make-up on." I caught Mary's gaze in the mirror and we both smiled. "She was quite helpful and it definitely carried over."

"Thank you for letting us bring Sheryl with us."

"Of course!" I pressed another kiss to the top of her head as I bounced her up and down gently on my hip. "I wouldn't have it any other way. You all are family."

"How do you think the boys are doing this morning?" Mary asked as she put on eyeliner.

"Well, Sherlock was awake when we left. John looked a bit hungover when I saw him cycling towards the flat. Mycroft and Greg weren't even up yet." My phone began to buzz on the back of the commode. "That's probably them right now."

 _ **Why did you let us drink so much last night…? -MH**_

 _ **Hahaha oh Mycroft, I didn't. Besides, I believe your words were, and I quote, "I can handle myself. I'm an adult and more than capable of keeping track of my alcohol consumption." -DM**_

 _ **Why? None of us can function this morning except for Sherlock. This is awful. -MH**_

 _ **I tried to get you to stop. But you seemed to be enjoying yourself, especially once the lampshade was put on your head. -DM**_

 _ **...what…? -MH**_

 _ **I have pictures if you don't believe me. You looked quite lovely actually. Never seen you look better in fact. It really slimmed you. -DM**_

 _ **Delilah, you had better delete those pictures. -MH**_

 _ **I'm not joking. Delete them. -MH**_

 _ **Delilah Claire McKinley, so help me God if I have to steal your phone at your wedding, I will! -MH**_

I showed all of the text messages to Mary and we both laughed. "Always wanting to be proper and maintain his image."

"Much like Sherlock. I actually have photos of the two of them behaving like human beings. I don't think that their parents even have something like that." I scrolled through, showing Mary the photo of Mycroft and then the photo of Sherlock with his makeover. "See?"

"Oh, you wicked woman," Mary teased. "You realize how much you hold over them with those pictures?"

I laughed. "Oh believe me I do. Irene? Molly? How are you two doing this morning?"

Irene appeared in the doorway in her gown, putting in a pair of pearl earrings. "Now that I've had some tea, I'm feeling fantastic. Molly on the other hand is getting a bit ill. She's not used to drinking so much."

"Poor thing," I said with a frown. "Has she taken anything for it?"

"Yes, I have. I'll be fine," Molly said from behind Irene. Her face was pale and I could tell that she wasn't feeling very well. "It takes a bit for the medicine to kick in."

"I'm sorry Molly. I should have stopped you from drinking so much."

"It's fine Del. You didn't know what my limit was."

Mary took the baby from me. "Well, the car will be here in an hour and a half. Why don't we get you into your gown?"

"I suppose. If we must." My phone began to ring and I went to answer it. "Good morning, this is Delilah McKinley."

"Good morning Lila. How are things going over at Mary's?"

I smiled, stepping out of the bathroom. "Oh, fairly well. We're already dressed and ready. How are things over at our flat?"

"Oh, you know, the usual." There was a pause. "Do you really have a picture of Mycroft in the lampshade?"

"Mhmmm."

"Might I have it?"

I laughed. "What for Sherlock?"

"Oh, a bit of blackmail if he acts up at the wedding." I could hear someone talking in the background. "Mycroft is telling me that you have to get rid of those photos. Send them to me please."

"One second." I pulled the phone away from my ear, quickly texting the photo to him. "It's sent. Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?"

"Nope. Nothing that I can think of."

"Not a single thing?"

"Well...maybe that I love you."

"Is that all?"

"And that I can't wait to see you at the wedding. Only an hour and a half left. Are you excited?"

"Of course I am," I said softly, glancing over my shoulder to see Mary and Irene inspecting the gown, Molly doing her hair in the mirror. "I mean, I get to marry you. Why wouldn't I be excited?"

"Because you're marrying me."

"You make that sound like a bad thing."

"Maybe it is."

I frowned. "Are you getting cold feet Sherlock?"

"No. I'm making sure that you aren't."

"If I was going to leave you, I would have left the night the flat was broken into." I looked out the window to see the sunshine peeking from behind the clouds. "That seems like a lifetime ago."

"That's because it was."

"What do you mean?" I asked, going to look out at the people moving around outside. "It was only two years ago."

"I'll explain it later. Go and put your gown on. Delilah?"

"Yes Sherlock?"

"I love you."

"I love you too. I'll see you soon."

I hung up the phone and went back into the now crowded bathroom. "Let's get this over with, shall we?"

* * *

Two hours later, I stood outside the doors to the ceremony, my heart racing in my chest. I could hear the murmurs of people talking outside and I glanced at Mary. "Were you this nervous for your wedding?"

"Oh yes. One of the most terrifying things I've ever done," she replied, fixing the veil over my face. "That's a lovely brooch."

"Thank you. Sherlock's father gave it to me last night. Family heirloom he said," I replied, fighting the urge to vomit. "So...this is it."

"Yes, it is. Are you feeling alright? You're looking a little pale."

"I'm fine. Nervous. Very nervous. God, is it hot in here?"

Mary grabbed a pamphlet for the museum off a table, fanning me with it. "Take a few deep breaths for me. It'll be over before you know it. You know the way this is going to go, correct?"

"Aye. Sherlock and the groomsmen will be up front already, my mother will walk down the aisle, then Molly, then Irene, and finally you. Scarlett and Maddie will walk down the aisle together, Maddie throwing flowers and Scarlett carrying the rings on her collar. Then...then I walk down the aisle with dozens of pairs of eyes staring at me." My heart skipped a beat. "Oh God, why did I agree to this?"

"Del...listen to me," Mary's voice was calm and reassuring. "You are marrying one of the best men that John and I have ever known. You love him and he loves you. Everyone in that room loves at least one of you, if not both. Relax. You're going to be fine. An hour at most and then you will be Mrs. Sherlock Holmes." The music for my mother and the bridesmaids started up and Mary looked at me before lowering the veil. "Are you ready beautiful?"

"I'm ready. Mary?"

"Hmmm?"

"Thank you for the pep talk. I really needed it."

She laughed. "It's not a problem. See you at the altar."

We stood, waiting patiently. My mother was the first one down. I had been very surprised that she'd agreed to it, but something had changed since our meeting in the coffee shop and Sherlock's private discussion with her. Our relationship had actually gotten better. Next followed Molly, who was still a bit pale, but hadn't gotten sick since before we'd left. Then Irene. Mary gave me a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek before she left. This left me with Scarlett and Maddie. Maddie looked up at me with a smile.

"Are you nervous Delly?"

I knelt down in front of her. "A little bit. Are you?"

"Nope."

"Oh? Why's that?"

The little girl leaned in, motioning for me to come closer. She cupped her hand around my ear, whispering, "I'm not nervous because Lock is a superhero and so are you. Two heros getting married can't be a bad thing, right?"

I felt the tears touch my eyes and I smiled. "No. It can't be. You're such a smart little girl." I looked up to watch the doors open a bit, signaling that it was time for her to go. "I'll see you in a minute, alright?"

"Alright. Love you Delly. Good luck!"

She and Scarlett went down the aisle together and I straightened up, glancing at myself in the mirror. The ivory gown fit absolutely perfectly. The delicate lace covered my shoulders, back, and arms in intricate swirls. It clung to every curve I had before flaring out just below my hips in a cascade of tulle. My shoes were hidden beneath the gown, but Mycroft and I had chosen a pair of ivory colored flats. He and I had both agreed that the last thing we wanted was for me to fall trying to walk down the aisle.

I heard the wedding march begin and I quickly grabbed my father's urn in one hand and the bouquet in the other. Sherlock had chosen the bouquet. It was a mixture of rhododendron ponticum, stargazer lilies, and baby's breath tied together with a brilliant cobalt blue ribbon to match the bridesmaid gowns. The doors opened and I watched as every eye in the room turned to look at me.

As I walked, my eyes never left Sherlock's. The look on his face was one that I would always remember. His face was relaxed, his eyes wide, lips parted in wonder. His eyes sparkled and I watched a single tear slip down his cheek. My heart fluttered at the sight of it. I walked slowly down the aisle, doing my best to keep calm despite everyone staring. I stopped at the seat beside my mother that had been reserved for my father. I lifted the veil so that my lips could press against his urn before I set it down in his seat.

I straightened up, finishing my walk up to Sherlock. He looked extraordinarily handsome. He and Mycroft had chosen a dark grey suit with an ivory colored waistcoat and a tie the same color as the ribbon on my bouquet. He was also wearing the cufflinks I'd chosen for him, a personalized set that said, 'I'm marrying my thief' on one and then our names and the date on the other. While he hadn't said that he liked them, I'd caught him staring at them more than once with a smile on his face.

I handed my bouquet to Mary before I reached up to straighten his tie. He smiled and leaned down to murmur in my ear, "You look absolutely breathtaking my darling."

"And you look unforgivably handsome," I replied. "So...here we are."

"Here we are."

The officiant cleared his throat and we both turned to look at him. I giggled softly, Sherlock shooting me a look of mischief.

"Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness the union of William Sherlock Scott Holmes to Delilah Claire McKinley." I had to stifle another giggle at the sound of Sherlock's full name. "Through their time together, they have faced many trials and tribulations. They have walked through fire for one another and proven that by working together, they become the balance that the other needs. They have created a love that burns brighter than any sun and that runs deeper and truer than any river. It is with this love that they have decided to create a life together and live together as husband and wife."

"Sherlock and Delilah, remember to treat yourself and each other with respect, and remind yourselves often of what brought you together." I smiled, looking to Sherlock, seeing that he was remembering the same thing that I was. "Take responsibility for making the other feel safe, and give the highest priority to tenderness, gentleness, and patience that your connection deserves. When frustration, difficulty, and fear assail your relationship, as they threaten all relationships from time to time, remember to focus on what is right between you, not just the parts that seem wrong. It is with this that you will survive any storm that may brew on the horizon, any east wind that tries to blow you off course. Remember that after the bitter cold there is always spring on the horizon and, if each of you takes responsibility for the quality of your life together, it will bring about a bountiful spring of love and an unending summer of happiness."

"It is after these words that I now ask the couple to recite their vows to one another. From what I understand, the couple has decided to write their own. We will begin with the groom." The officiant turned to look at Sherlock as did I.

A sweat broke out on his brow and I could see that his hand was shaking. I gave him a small smile, taking his hand. "Don't be scared Sherlock. I'm right here."

"Right." He gave my hand a small squeeze and a tight smile before clearing his throat. "Delilah Claire McKinley. The thief who stole my heart. I have agonized over these vows for months, trying to figure out exactly what to say. I asked my most loyal friends, my family, and none could give me the answers that I sought. I looked over dozens upon dozens of websites to try to find the perfect format, the right words. But there is nothing right about making these promises to you."

I heard a few gasps and groans from the guests and the wedding party, but I continued to stare into Sherlock's eyes, unperturbed by his words. I knew how hard it was for him to be open about his feelings, especially in front of so many people. He took both of my hands now, smiling at me.

"At the wedding of my nearest and dearest friends, I said that I would never make another vow in my life. Yet here I stand at the altar with the most beautiful woman I have ever met. Delilah, you have been by my side through good and bad, triumph and trauma. You have saved my life in more ways than one and stolen my heart, a feat that no other woman has managed to accomplish. You asked me once why I loved you and today, as part of my vows to love and honor you for the rest of my days, I will tell you about why I love you."

"I love you because you see me. You understand when I need silence, when I need to be calmed down, when I need someone to bounce ideas off of. I love you because you saw past my prickly exterior to the man underneath, a man that I did not even know I was capable of being. I love you at two in the morning, slumped over your computer screen, trying to help me research, eyes drooping with fatigue. I love you at five-thirty in the evening when you come home from the school after teaching children how to protect themselves, drenched in sweat because all seventeen of them wanted to spar with you long after the lesson was done. I love you early in the morning when you're making tea for the both of us, the sunlight streaming through the window above the sink, turning your hair to fire."

"But most of all, I love you because you are the piece of my soul that I didn't even know that I was missing. It is with this love that I promise to be there for you, no matter the time of day or the cost to myself. I promise to be by your side when you are ill and to celebrate with you when you are healthy. I promise to protect you until my last breath and to honor who you are as a person. I promise to help you grow and become a better person every day. I will love you unconditionally, listen to your fears and ease them in every way that I am capable of. I will love you, for better or worse, until death parts us. That is my promise and that is the _last_ vow that I will make in my life."

I reached up under the veil, wiping away the tears from my eyes. I could see John and Greg crying, looks of pride on their faces. Judging by the sniffling and shuffling going on behind me, I had no doubt Mary, Molly, and Irene were crying. Sherlock took my hand, a frown on his face.

"Why are you crying?"

"Because that was the most beautiful thing I've ever heard you say," I replied, trying to stop the tears from flowing.

"If the bride is now ready to recite her vows?" The officiant asked and I let out a watery laugh.

"There's no way that I can top that, are you kidding?" There was a laugh from the crowd and Sherlock smiled. "Leave it to me to choose to marry a secret poet. Well...let's see how I do then, shall we?"

"William Sherlock Scott Holmes. Or, as I more affectionately know you, Sherlock Holmes, my dark-haired angel." I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself. I was re-writing my vows in my head as I spoke. "I don't know how we got here. I will be blunt. I don't know how I came to stand in front of the world's greatest consulting detective or how I came to love him when, as nearly everyone in this room knows, he can be an impossible ass. But, here I stand in front of the man that I never wanted to become my husband."

"I never meant to fall in love with you Sherlock. It was never my intention. But, for some reason, the universe decided to make us soulmates. In the words of Richard Bach...a soulmate is someone who has locks that fit our keys, and keys to fit our locks. When we feel safe enough to open the locks, our truest selves step out and we can be completely and honestly who we are; we can be loved for who we are and not for who we're pretending to be." I smiled up at him. "You were the one lock in my life that I didn't need to pick and I was the one mysterious key that you had in your pocket and were unknowingly searching for the lock that it belonged to. You were my mysterious stranger who became the love that I never expected to have."

"Honestly, I never expected to make it this long. I thought that I would die on those streets, cold, hungry, alone and without a family to care about me. But since I have met you, I have been provided with a safe pair of arms to fall asleep in, a lasagna in the oven, a love that is overflowing, and a family that is bigger than the one that I had before. With you, Sherlock, I have found life once more. I have found peace and I have found myself, all thanks to you. On this day, in front of all of these people, family and friends, both old and new, I make my promise to you. I promise that I will love you until the end of the universe and whatever may be beyond that. I promise that I will allow you to be the man that I can see, the good man who will never admit that he is on the side of the angels. I promise that I will encourage you in all of your endeavors and that I will protect you from any danger that those endeavors may bring."

"I will be by your side every step of the way. I will love you during your wildest cases and during your quietest ponderings. I will stand by you, support you, and love you until the end of all of our days, through sickness and in health, until death do us part. This I promise you and this will be my vow to you, William Sherlock Scott Holmes, my dark-haired angel."

I again could hear the sounds of crying in the room and, to my surprise, tears were streaming down Sherlock's face. We both smiled at each other and he took my hands, resting his forehead against mine. I closed my eyes, letting out a shaky breath and he touched my cheek tenderly.

"That was the bravest thing I've ever seen you do," he murmured.

"Thanks. I could say the same thing for you."

The officiant cleared his throat. "If we could have the rings?"

Sherlock whistled for Scarlett and the dog trotted up from her spot beside John. He reached down, detaching the rings from her collar, handing them to the man.

"Sherlock, as you place the ring on Delilah's finger, please repeat after me. With this ring, I marry you. With my loving heart. With my willing body. And with my eternal soul."

Sherlock took my left hand, his eyes never leaving mine. "With this ring, I marry you. With my loving heart. With my willing body. And with my eternal soul."

He slid the ring onto my finger, a Celtic wedding band studded with rubies. His hand shook, as did mine, but I knew that everything would be alright.

"Delilah, as you place the ring on Sherlock's finger, please repeat after me. With this ring, I marry you. With my loving heart. With my willing body. And with my eternal soul."

I smiled, taking the ring before taking Sherlock's left hand. My father's wedding band winked at me in the sunlight streaming through the windows and I looked to Sherlock to see him smiling down at me. "With this ring, I marry you. With my loving heart. With my willing body. And with my eternal soul."

His ring was also a Celtic wedding band, but it was studded with garnets instead of rubies. As I slid it on, I felt the tears slipping down my cheeks once more. We'd done it. We'd actually done it. I didn't know how we'd managed to make it to our wedding, but we had, and it was the happiest I had felt in my entire life.

"It is with these rings that I now pronounce you husband and wife," the officiant declared. "You may kiss your bride."

"Finally. I've been waiting ages for you to say that." He lifted my veil and I watched as his smile grew wider. "Hello my beautiful Mrs. Holmes."

"Hello my handsome Mr. Holmes."

He pulled me close to him, cupping my face in both of his hands before kissing me passionately. His thumbs wiped away my tears as he kissed me. I wrapped my arms around his neck and he was dipping me backwards, his lips never leaving mine. I could barely hear the applause and the cheers. All that mattered in that moment was that Sherlock and I were together and that we were happy.

He straightened me up and once again, we stood there, foreheads pressed together, fingers intertwined. Sherlock pressed a kiss to the top of my head before pulling away, whistling again for Scarlett. She trotted up and I took her leash this time. We walked down the aisle together, going outside to take photos.

Before we knew it, we were in the limo together, just the two of us, Scarlett riding with Mary, John, and the rest of the wedding party. I sighed, leaning back in the seat as we pulled away. "So...where are we going?"

"Mary and John's. Mycroft selected a gown for you to wear at the reception."

"What?" I felt my face pale. "But I thought we had decided that I was just going to wear this one."

"Well, he thought that we might like to preserve it for one of our daughters to wear at their wedding. I've already seen the dress and I believe you'll approve of it." Sherlock pulled me into his arms, pressing another kiss to the top of my head. "You looked so beautiful up there."

"Mmmm, I did, did I?" I purred, nuzzling my face against his chest. "I was worried you wouldn't approve."

Sherlock chuckled. "Of course I approve. So...how does it feel?"

"How does what feel?" I asked, looking up at him curiously.

"How does it feel to be Mrs. Delilah Claire Holmes?"

"Oh! Erm...am I supposed to feel any different? Because I feel like we're pretty much going to be doing the same thing once our honeymoon is finished." I paused. "Where are we going Sherlock?"

"Do you really want to know?" He asked, running his fingers through my hair. "Are you dying of curiosity?"

"Sherlock. Tell me."

"If you must know, we're going to Ireland. Adare to be precise. We're staying in your grandparents' old home."

I covered my hand with my mouth and the tears touched my eyes. "We're...we're going...home?"

"Your home, yes. From what I understand, the cottage has been abandoned for quite a few years. None of your family attended to it after your father died and it was in your name once he passed." I nodded slowly. "Well, as a wedding present, your family fixed up the cottage for us to stay in. I thought that perhaps we could use it as a summer home and as our retreat for our honeymoon." I began to cry and Sherlock's brow furrowed. "Why are you crying? I thought that this would make you happy."

"It does. It does...oh my God...Sherlock, I haven't been home in years. Not since I was twenty for my grandfather's funeral. This...thank you. Thank you so much."

I kissed him, tears still falling. I didn't care though. I was going home. I was going home for two weeks and I was going to get to spend the entire time with my husband.

* * *

An hour later, we were arriving back at the museum. We stood outside the doors of the reception. They'd done a fantastic job at transforming the room from the ceremony into the reception hall in such a short amount of time. Sherlock and I greeted all of our guests. Lucas came running up to me, holding Maddie's hand.

"Ms. McKinley! Ms. McKinley!"

"It's not Ms. McKinley!" Maddie corrected by shouting. "It's Mrs. Holmes now!"

I squatted down in front of the two of them. "Yes Lucas? Maddie? What is it?"

"Well, we wanted to tell you that we're going to become superheroes too!" Maddie said excitedly, bouncing up and down on her toes. "Will you and Lock teach us?!"

I laughed, pressing a kiss to her forehead before giving Lucas a hug. "Of course we'll teach you. But you'll have to wait until Lock and I return. Do you think you can do that for me?"

"Of course! Can I say hi to Lock now?" I looked up to see him finishing a conversation with two of my cousins. "I don't think he'd mind at all. Go on, both of you. And I get a dance after dinner, alright?"

"Alright!" They said in unison, Lucas taking Maddie's hand before skipping over to Sherlock.

I straightened up in time to see Max approaching me, grinning from ear to ear. He held his arms open to me and I gave him a warm embrace, kissing the top of his head. "Max! I swear, you get bigger and bigger every time I see you. Won't be able to kiss the top of your head in a couple of months if you keep growing at this rate!"

The boy laughed. "Delly, you are always so silly. Do you think that we can go shooting sometime soon? I want to practice. I'm going to be in the army in a few years. I talked to John about it."

"Did you now? How very noble of you," I answered. "You'll be a great soldier Max."

"Thanks." We stood there for a moment, the sunlight streaming down onto us. "You know…I'm really happy you married him."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. He's a nice guy. And I can tell he makes you happy. He never told you, I'm sure, but he's the one who encouraged me to talk to John when I told him I wanted to make a difference. He also told me that Mum wouldn't support my decision, but that you would, so I should listen to your words and not hers." I looked between Sherlock and Maximus in shock. Sherlock was spinning Maddie around the small patio, making her giggle. "He said I shouldn't tell you, but I don't think you're supposed to keep secrets from your siblings. Especially not your older siblings."

I laughed, pulling Max in for another hug, holding him tight. "I am so glad to have you in my life Maximus. You're such a good boy."

"And you're such a good big sister. Thank you for being you Delly."

We let go of one another and he ran off to go and speak with his father and Greg. I felt someone tug my arm and I turned to see John standing behind me. "Do you mind if we go and talk for a quick second?"

"No, not at all." I looped my arm through his and we meandered off away from the crowds of people. "Does Sherlock know that we're going somewhere?"

"If he doesn't, he'll notice as we're leaving that his bride isn't by his side." We were a good ways away by the time we stopped. "Delilah, I never got a chance to speak with you in private before the wedding. I was going to last night, but I wasn't expecting Janine to show up."

"I don't think any of us were," I said, feeling my mood grow dark. I shook myself. "What did you wish to speak to me about?"

"Well, you and I have grown close over the past couple of years. But Sherlock and I are closer. I-"

I held up my hand, cutting John off. "If you're here to give me a lecture about not hurting him or issue me a warning, I promise you that I won't. I would never do anything to hurt him."

"Not at all. I wouldn't try to issue you a warning. I wanted to congratulate you and give you my blessing." I stared at John in shock. "I meant every word of my speech last night. You are the greatest thing that could have happened to him. I'm not good at the emotional talks or anything like that. I struggled with my best man speech as much as Sherlock struggled with his. But…I mean it when I say that I am glad that he found you and that you are perfect for him. I wanted to thank you. For everything."

I began to cry again. God, when did I become such a tearful person? But I supposed that it was my wedding day and there would be quite a few more tear-filled moments down the line. John pulled me into a hug, patting my back comfortingly.

"Thank you, John. That…that means alot coming from you."

"I know. I know. Don't cry, alright? I didn't mean to make you cry."

"It's fine," I replied, wiping away the tears with the handkerchief Sherlock had given me earlier. "It's really fine. I don't know why I'm so weepy all of a sudden."

"It's alright. Quite alright. Well then…shall we get back?" He began to walk away when I grabbed his arm. "Del? What is it?"

"I wanted to thank you."

"For what?"

"For saving my life. If it weren't for you talking to me and convincing me to change my behavior or if you hadn't sent Mary in to talk to me…I'd no doubt be stuck in a hospital in a padded cell or dead from starvation. I owe you."

John smiled, blushing. "You don't owe me anything. You've already given me the best thing that I could ask for."

"Aye? What's that?"

"The man that I always knew Sherlock could be."

We walked back to the reception arm in arm and John handed me off to Sherlock, who gave me a quizzical look. I shook my head, taking his hand. We walked into the room, going to the head table. Mary sat next to me, then it was Irene, and then Molly. I looked out over the sea of people, watching as they all talked and gossiped. I could catch more than a few glances thrown in our directions, smiles on everyone's faces.

The meal went quite well and as everyone's dessert plates were whisked away, Mycroft rose to his feet, tapping his fork against the crystal goblet. "Pray silence for the best man."

The crowd of people fell silent in the room, except for little Sheryl cooing in Mary's lap. I gave the baby my finger, letting her play with it as her father stood up at the table. John cleared his throat, reaching into his coat, searching for the note cards.

"You know, Sherlock, now would be the perfect time for revenge, given how you presented your best man's speech at my wedding." Knowing chuckles rippled through the crowd and I smiled, taking Sherlock's hand with my free one. "But I absolutely adore Delilah and won't embarrass her at her wedding. Because, let's face it, while you may have planned this wedding down to every minute detail, this is her big day, not yours." More laughter. "I've never been one to give very large and poignant speeches and I'll admit thatmy wife helped me on a good portion of it. But, here we are, the one event that I never thought that Sherlock would attend. His own wedding."

"Sherlock and I, we have an unspoken rule between us. He's an ass, I'm the voice of reason, and neither one of us admits that we care for the other like a brother." John gave Sherlock a smile. "Today though, I feel the need to tell Sherlock exactly what I think of him. Sherlock…my dearest friend, closest companion, and brother by bond. When I met you all those many years ago I was awestruck by your brilliance. You of course knew that, as you know everything that goes on. Even today, I'm still surprised by some of the deductions you make."

"But you are more than just the deductions you make. You are a man that I have grown to call my friend, the greatest friend that I've ever had. You've done things for me that no other man would do, all for the sake of keeping me and my family safe. I'm breaking our one rule, Sherlock, by telling all of these people how much I care for you and how happy I am that you found the woman sitting beside you." Sherlock draped his arm over my shoulder, pulling me close to his side. "She has done things for you that I don't even think that I would be capable of doing. I have seen how much she truly loves you. The night you were shot, I watched her grieve like I've never seen anyone grieve before. She sent up a prayer for one more miracle for her and I believe she got it."

"You two are the most imperfectly perfect couple I have ever seen and I congratulate you on your wedding. Welcome to the family Delilah."

The entire room broke out into applause and I leaned in to Sherlock, whispering, "Stand up and give John a hug."

Sherlock did as I asked him to and I could see that there was many a wet eye in the crowd. Mary took my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, dabbing at the tears in her eyes. "I didn't help him write all of it you know."

"Oh, I know," I replied, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "I could tell which parts he'd done himself."

Sheryl began to cry, reaching out for me and I took her, bouncing her in my lap as John told stories of adventures that I'd never heard about before. I smiled at every one of them, laughing and picturing Sherlock in each situation. John turned to me at the end of his stories.

"I've spoken about every single one of these cases, but there is one that Sherlock never solved."

"Oh?" I asked, cuddling with the baby. "Which case was that?"

"The case of how he got lucky enough to find a woman as patient and loving as you." I smiled, pressing a soft kiss to the side of Sheryl's head. "Ladies and gentlemen, please rise and raise your glasses to congratulate the bride and groom!"

The room rose to their feet and they all raised their glasses. I reached for mine around the baby and Sherlock reached for his. We raised ours in return, taking sips before setting it down. There were a few more speeches and then it was time to cut the cake. I still had little Sheryl, the baby wrapped up tight in my arms as she was fast asleep. I carefully handed her over to Mary, taking my place by Sherlock. We watched as the cakes were brought in and I felt my jaw drop at the sight of our wedding cake.

Our wedding cake was ivory colored and on the outside of it, was a series of Celtic knots piped in different shades of green and blue. Sherlock leaned down, whispering, "The knots signify everlasting love. They-"

"I know," I murmured. "They're the same as the ones on our rings. It's beautiful. It must have taken them hours to decorate all of it."

I glanced up at Sherlock, seeing the look of surprise on his face as they carried in the groom's cake. I gasped, covering my mouth with my hand. They had gone above and beyond with his cake. The base was a cake model of his coat. Perched on top of that was the deerstalker cap and propped against the side was a realistic looking magnifying glass. I smiled at the baker, giving them a hug.

"It's _perfect,_ " I gushed. "You all...wow...thank you so much."

"It was no problem," the woman said with a laugh. "You two were adorable when you came in and all of us at the shop are huge Sherlock fans. We wanted to do something special for you all."

Sherlock pressed a kiss to my temple before giving the woman a warm smile. "Thank you for making everything perfect."

"Again, it was no problem."

We cut the cake and I playfully shoved the piece of cake into Sherlock's face. He looked at me in shock before grinning from ear to ear, smashing his own piece into my face. We both laughed and kissed each other despite the cake on our faces. People began to grab their own slices of cake and I took the time to go and wash up in the ladies' room.

I was wiping a spot of icing off of my earlobe when I heard the door open and close, locking behind the person. I looked up to see Mycroft standing there in his suit, smiling at me.

"Mycroft. I didn't realize that you were a woman. I should have known."

"Very funny Delilah. I suppose I should be used to your quips and sarcasm at this point." He approached me and I continued to look at him in the mirror. "Are you having a good time?"

"Surprisingly, yes, I am. What about you? Still upset that I'm your sister now?"

"Quite the contrary." I raised an eyebrow. "I am actually delighted to have you as my sister."

"Oh? What brought about this change of heart?" I asked, wiping at another spot of icing I'd missed.

"The fact that my brother loves you. I thought that you were just a phase, but now I can see how much you actually mean to him." I looked up at him in surprise. "I'm not as heartless as everyone seems to think Delilah. I'm merely looking out for my baby brother's best interests. He may hate me for it, but someone has to do it. I suppose that someone is you now. You're...good for him."

I turned, going to give Mycroft a hug. He stiffened for a moment before relaxing, patting me on the back. "Thank you Mycroft. I never expected you to be so kind."

"I never expected to be a big brother to a little sister, but here we are." He gently pushed me away from him. "You're going to be late for your first dance."

"We can't have that," I said, unlocking the door to the bathroom. "Do you know how many hours Sherlock and I put into this first dance?"

Mycroft chuckled. "I have an idea. Come along. We'll talk later."

"Mycroft?"

"Mmm?"

"Thank you for being such a great big brother. To both of us."

I saw the split-second flash of surprise in his eyes before it disappeared again. "It's my job."

I smiled. "Not really. But I'm glad you think so."

I met with Sherlock outside the doors to the reception. I looked up at him nervously and he gave me a quick peck on the lips. "Everything alright?"

"Aye. Had a discussion with your brother."

"And?"

"I believe that we'll be very good siblings from here on out."

Sherlock smiled, taking my hand. "Good. I'm glad that things worked out between you both. Are you ready for our first dance?"

"With how much we practiced? I've been ready for weeks now," I said with a laugh.

"Will you be alright with the lift?"

"I should be. I trust you." I looped my arm through his, watching as the other members of the wedding party appeared in front of us. Mary turned and gave me a thumbs up as the doors swung open. "Hopefully I don't trip over my own two feet."

"I'll catch you if you do darling." We began to walk into the room and I smiled as I heard the song that Sherlock had composed for our first dance. "What did you title this again?"

"Hmmm?"

"The song? What did you title this as again?"

"Oh. I didn't," Sherlock replied as he spun me to face him. "You can't title a song made from love."

I laughed and we performed our first dance. Even the lift went flawlessly and I was surprised. I hadn't realized how strong Sherlock was until I was above his head, his hands planted firmly on my waist, my hands on his shoulders. He spun me around before lowering me to the ground, dipping me backwards and kissing me soundly. The dance ended and there was applause from everyone around us.

We spent the rest of the night dancing and talking with friends and family. I always looked to Sherlock and every time I did, my heart melted a bit more. He was truly happy and it made my heart swell with joy. I'd made the right decision in marrying him.

He was, after all, a good man and the perfect man for me.


	11. Chapter 11: The Honeymoon

***Helloooooo lovelies! Did you miss me? ;) I missed you guys a lot. I'm sorry I haven't been around that much. I've been very ill and sometimes I'll feel better, but other times I won't. I debated for a long time whether or not I wanted to continue with this storyline, but I decided that I've already gone pretty non-canon by adding Delilah. So here's my continuation of this story. There is a bit of smut in this chapter (it's their honeymoon, what do you expect?) so if that bothers you, you'll just have to wait for the next chapter. I hope you all enjoy this chapter, I hope it was worth the very long hiatus, and I will see you all in the next one!***

* * *

 **Chapter 11: The Honeymoon**

"Are you alright love?" I asked, looking at Sherlock as we got off the plane. "You're looking a bit pale."

"I need a cigarette. I wasn't expecting for the flight to take so long."

I nodded. "We'll go and find somewhere you can smoke before I hail a cab. Then we'll head to my grandparent's house."

Sherlock smiled at me wanly, pressing a kiss to the side of my head. "You know me so well."

"No, I just don't wish to deal with you being rude to the cab driver on the ride over," I teased, giving Sherlock a playful shove.

"You mean you don't feel like having to apologize profusely as you usually do?"

"Precisely. Come on. Let's go and find you a quiet corner so you can destroy your lungs."

I took his hand, fighting the urge to pull back, still startled by the feeling of his wedding ring against my hand. He seemed to sense my recoil and gave my hand a gentle but reassuring squeeze. We grabbed our luggage on our way outside. Sherlock pulled a package of cigarettes from the front of his jacket pocket, making a beeline for the smoking area outside. I stood back, not keen on wanting to receive his secondhand smoke.

I watched him and when I saw that he was almost done, I threw my hand out for a cab. He crushed the cigarette under his shoe heel before walking over to me as the cab pulled to the curb.

"Are you excited Lila?"

"Of course! I haven't stayed here since before my father passed away. I'm wondering how much its changed."

"Well, Mycroft and your family had the cottage cleaned. All of the bedding had to be changed, as well as some of the fixtures. He wanted to make certain that everything was perfect for our arrival."

"But you said that-"

"Your family did fix it up the best that they could. Mycroft only helped them a bit by providing the supplies that they would need. Don't worry my darling, you'll see it soon enough. I promise you, it is much improved."

His thumb ran over my wedding band and I looked up at him, smiling. He smiled back down at me before leaning in to press a long, slow kiss to my lips. I reached up to gently fist my hand in his hair. We kissed for a few moments before pulling away and I settled back against him.

"Delilah, can I tell you something?"

"Anything you'd like dearest husband." That word was still foreign in my mouth, but I liked to hear it.

"I was terrified yesterday."

"I could tell."

"No, I mean, I wasn't terrified of giving my speech. I was terrified that you would walk away from me."

I sat up, turning to look at him. "Walk away from you? Why on Earth would I do something as silly as that?"

"Because…well I thought that you would realize exactly how horrible of a husband I would be for you. I mean, I go gallivanting off in the middle of the night, I have some very persistent enemies, and I'm a bit impossible to put up with."

"If you haven't realized Sherlock, I make a horrible wife for you. I mean, I go gallivanting off in the middle of the night," I moved towards him, closing the gap between us, our eyes locked. "I have some very persistent enemies." My lips hovered over his and I could hear his breathing quicken. "And I'm a bit impossible to put up with. So if anyone should have left anyone at the altar, you should have left me."

Sherlock smiled. "Ah, but I didn't. I suppose that we'll have to deal with each other."

"I suppose that we will."

We kissed again and that was when the cab began to slow down. I looked up at the cottage and gasped. In the evening light, the house was glowing. The path to the house had had lanterns put in and from inside each lantern glowed a candle. Inside I could tell that there were more candles going and judging by the smoke coming from the chimney, a fire had been started in the fireplace.

Sherlock got out and opened my door for me, helping me out. He'd grabbed both packs, slinging them over his shoulders while paying the cab driver. As the driver pulled away, he took my hand, walking me up the path to the old cottage. I gasped as I stepped inside.

The walls had been painted a soft blue with white trim, the old dark wood paneling having been removed. I walked down the hallway straight to the kitchen, looking around at how it had been modernized. The sink and faucet were new, the fridge replaced as well as the cooktop. I looked outside, seeing the garden glittering with more of those lanterns. I felt the tears touch my eyes.

"Oh Sherlock, it's perfect!"

Sherlock dropped the packs on the kitchen table before pulling me into his arms, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. "I'm glad that you like it Lila. I was worried that you wouldn't."

"Why wouldn't I? Sherlock, this is the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me. This is perfect."

"I'm glad that you think so." He swept me off my feet. "Now, why don't we go and see the bedroom?"

I giggled as Sherlock whisked me up the stairs. "A bit eager, aren't we Sherlock?"

"Well, we haven't had a chance to make our union legally binding yet, have we?"

"Still worried I'm going to realize that you're a horrible husband and run away?"

"Precisely. Can't have that after all the trouble I went to to set this up."

I laughed as he set me down on the bed. "Of course we can't."

He pressed a rough kiss to my lips, causing me to gasp. I met his kiss, fisting my hand in his hair, pulling him closer to me, deepening it. I loved the feel of his body on top of mine, his lips moving against mine. His tongue dipped inside my mouth and I tasted mint and cigarette smoke, a heady combination. He pulled away, pressing kisses to my jawline and neck. I groaned as he sucked the tender skin where my neck met my collarbone.

"Sherlock…I love you," I murmured as I unbuttoned his shirt, tossing it to the floor. "I love you more than life itself."

"I love you too my darling," he replied, tugging my shirt up over my head before unhooking my bra. "You are everything in my life that is good and right."

I turned his face to me, looking into those deep galaxy colored eyes. "Make love to me."

"I intend to."

He leaned down, taking my right nipple in his mouth, sucking gently. I gasped, arching up against him. He smiled, caressing my left nipple with his hand as he continued to suckle. My hands found his shoulders and my nails dug in, eliciting a hiss from him. His lips travelled lower, kissing every inch of skin, leaving a trail of warmth down my body that pooled between my legs.

Sherlock quickly undid the button on my pants before tugging them and my underwear down around my ankles. I kicked them off unceremoniously before tugging his pants and underwear off. He pressed another kiss to my lips, the warmth of his body pressed against mine. I moaned, aching for him to be deep inside of me. I murmured my thoughts to Sherlock, watching as he smiled down at me mischievously.

"All in good time. You asked me to make love to you and so I am."

"But Sherlock-"

He pressed a finger to my lips, cutting me off. "Now now Lila. Let me go about my own way tonight. Please."

Without waiting for my reply, he shifted himself down, his face between my legs. The hot breath against the sensitive skin sent shivers up my spine. I tangled my fingers in his hair, lifting my hips slightly.

"Someone's a bit eager aren't they?" He murmured and I bit back a groan as he teased me with a whisper of his lips against my clit. "Oh yes, someone's eager indeed."

"Sherlock, please!"

"Please what?" He asked, sliding one finger deep inside of me.

"Sherlock!"

He chuckled before going to suckle and lick my clit. I moaned, letting my head fall back against the pillows, allowing the heat to wash over me. I looked up to see Sherlock staring at me, no doubt watching to see my reactions to him. He slid a second finger inside of me as he continued to work my clit and I gasped, my hips thrusting up against him.

"Sherlock…oh God, Sherlock…I'm so cl-close…Sherlock!" My hips bucked up against his mouth, my body arching as the orgasm flashed through me like a fire.

Sherlock lifted his head, sliding himself deep inside of me. I gasped, still surprised at how easily he filled me. He leaned back, one hand cupping my breast, the other stimulating my clit as he thrust deep and slow inside me. I could feel myself building once again and judging by the look on Sherlock's face, he was growing close as well.

"Go with me?"

"Are you…sure?" He asked, voice tight as he held himself back.

"Please Sherlock. Go with me."

His thrusting grew more frantic and I was flying towards that edge, careening over it into bliss. I heard Sherlock call my name as he orgasmed, thrusting violently before lowering himself on top of me, his face burying itself in my neck. I smiled, lazily running my fingers up and down his back, enjoying the feeling of him shuddering against me. He slowly pulled out and I was already getting up, not wanting to get any of our mess on the bed.

I walked quickly to the bathroom, cleaning myself up before going back to the bedroom. Sherlock was lying in bed, one arm draped over his eyes, the other sprawled across my side of the bed. I smiled, staring at him from the doorway.

"Why are you staring? Come and join me."

I chuckled softly. "What, I can't look at the spent body of my husband in the bed?"

"The spent body of your husband would like it if you were curled next to him. Come Lila, lay with me."

"In a minute. I wanted to go exploring."

Sherlock sat up and I could see the exasperated look on his face. "Delilah, your husband is naked in this bed and you are instead considering going exploring at nine thirty at night after we flew for a good portion of the day and were stuck in airports?"

"Well, I haven't been here in a long time. I'm a bit-"

"Over-eager as usual. We will explore in the morning, I promise you. But now I would like to lay down with my wife in this king size bed and rest for the first time in a very long time. Please."

I sighed, knowing that Sherlock rarely said please unless it was something that he wanted terribly. "We at least need to blow out the candles before bed."

Sherlock sighed. "Fine. But as soon as that's completed we're going to bed."

"Yes."

We both went through the house, blowing out candles. I'd thrown on a pair of pajama bottoms and a tank top, running outside down the paths to blow out the lanterns. I raced back to the cottage, glancing up at the sky before I did. I smiled at the sight of all the stars. That was one thing that I'd missed while living in London, the sight of all the stars filling the night sky.

I rushed up the stairs to find Sherlock tucked back in bed under the covers. I stripped out of my pajamas, sliding in next to him. He flinched away at the cold of my skin compared to his.

"It's only September, why are you so cold?"

"I'm still a stone lighter than I was when we first met, that's why. Now come and warm me."

Sherlock sighed, but rolled over, draping his arm over my waist, pulling me tight against him. "You are very lucky that I love you."

"I know. Luck of the Irish as the Americans say."

Sherlock chuckled. "I always forget that you like those shows. Which one have you been watching lately?"

"Supernatural. It's about-"

"Two brothers who hunt creatures that could never possibly exist. Yes, I remember you telling me about it. I don't understand how you watch such drivel."

"And your shows are so much better than mine, correct?" I said with a giggle. "Come on Sherlock, you said you were tired."

"So I did," he replied, running his fingers through my short locks of hair, playing with one of the curls. "Will you be letting your hair grow out again or are you going to keep it short?"

"I like it short Sherlock," I murmured, closing my eyes as his fingers began to massage my scalp. "I thought you liked it short as well?"

"I do. But I also liked it long."

"You can't have it both ways. One or the other."

He lifted my face up to his, pressing a gentle kiss to my lips. "I don't care so long as I get to hold you in my arms for the rest of my life."

"Of course you can. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else." I muttered, feeling myself beginning to doze off. "Sherlock?"

"Yes Lila?"

"I'm so glad that I found you."

"And I'm glad I found you." I was nearly asleep when I felt Sherlock shift to lean down and whisper in my ear, "Good night my beautiful thief. Sweet dreams."

I smiled, drifting off peacefully into slumber.

* * *

"Come on Sherlock, quit being such a baby!" I called back to him, pushing past the brambles. "It's only a little ways away!"

"But I've got thorns in my sleeves and my pants. This is ridiculous. I don't go _fishing_." He practically spat the words and I turned towards him, eyebrow raised.

"If you didn't want to come, you could have stayed at home. I would much rather go by myself than listen to you whine the entire time."

Sherlock heaved a sigh. "Delilah, I hate the outdoors. You know this. It's why I chose to live in London in the first place. Besides the fact that there are more crimes for me to work on there than there are in any other city in England."

"Like I said, you could have stayed at home and poured over the books in the library. I only wanted to go fishing for our lunch as I don't feel like going to the market today." I turned to follow the path once more, carrying the pole on my back. "If you want you can go back. But as I said, we're almost there."

Sherlock grumbled but continued to follow behind me, carrying his pole over one shoulder, the small tackle box in the other hand. I nearly tripped into the creek, managing to catch myself at the last minute, arms wind-milling. Sherlock caught me by the waist, steadying me.

"Thank you. I had no intention of getting wet today."

"Oh really? No intention at all? I mean, it is our honeymoon."

I shoved him playfully, shaking my head incredulously. "Is that all you can think about?"

"Well, I do have this beautiful red-headed woman standing in front of me. And it's not my fault that she stole my heart, the little thief." He set the pole and tackle box down on the ground, pulling me into his arms. "But I can safely say that I don't want it back."

Sherlock kissed me and I smiled against his lips before pulling away. "You're stalling."

"How did you know?"

"Because that was your I'm-trying-to-distract-you kiss. You used the same one on Janine when you were trying to keep her from discovering the truth about our little ruse."

His eyes widened before he laughed. "I feel as if I've taught you too much."

"Quite the contrary," I said, taking my pole off my shoulder before digging in the soft earth. "You haven't taught me enough. There's still a lot that I could learn. But I could say the same for you. You have a lot to learn from me as well."

"Oh do I now?" He continued to stand there, watching me curiously. "What exactly might I learn from you?"

"Well, the first thing you could learn is how to dig for earth worms so that we can bait our hooks." I watched as his nose wrinkled in disgust. "Oh come on Sherlock, it's only a worm."

He knelt beside me, flipping over rocks. I heard him groan when he saw one wriggling and I grabbed it up quickly before it could dig its way back into the earth. I tossed it into the small pail that we'd brought with us. I began to dig with my fingers under the rock that Sherlock had lifted, producing nine more worms for my efforts.

"Sherlock, you're telling me that you can stare at a bloody body in the street, but you can't stand the idea of touching a worm? Surely you must be joking."

"Bodies were once human beings that I can relate to, not annelida."

"But what about when you dig up bodies in a graveyard? I've seen you do it before."

"I tend to ignore them when they fall on me as I'm engrossed in getting to the body."

I rolled my eyes. "You're going to have to get over your hesitancy Sherlock as you're going to be baiting your own hook."

"Lila, you can't be serious!"

"I am very serious Sherlock. I dug up the worms and a good fisherman baits his own hook. It's either that or I send word to John and Mary that you are being obstinate and uncooperative on our honeymoon. I highly doubt that either one of them will be pleased to hear that." I gave him a sweet smile, watching as he stared at me incredulously.

"You are the most devious, underhanded person I've ever met in my entire life."

"Aye. That's why you love me so much."

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "Perhaps."

"Come on Sherlock. Let's go. I'll show you how to bait your hook."

He groaned and grimaced throughout the entire process, but eventually managed to get a worm on his hook. I teased him the entire time for it and he at one point stuck his tongue out at me, sending me into a fit of giggles. We both cast our lines into the water before settling underneath the shade of an ash tree. The sun streamed down on us as we curled up next to one another, watching our poles for any sign of fish.

"So, why exactly did you want to go fishing this morning? There was more to it than you not wanting to go to market." I opened my mouth to say something, but Sherlock cut me off by saying, "You forget that I know how to read you as well as you read me."

"Fine. My father and I would always come here to go and fish in the fall and spring. We would bring my grandparents quite a few brown trout and that would be our supper for that night. It was a wonderful time that brought our family together and it was one of the few times that I could see my father without training. He really enjoyed fishing, said that it soothed his soul."

"This was actually one of the last things that I did with him before he went on his final mission. We came here and spent a week together. Olivia hadn't been able to make it. Now I understand why. She'd fallen under Moriarty's spell at that point. So my father and I went fishing every day together and walking the town in the afternoon. It-" I froze, watching as Sherlock's rod gave a small twitch. "Sherlock, look!"

We both held our breath, watching as the rod continued to dance a bit, not enough for the fish to have taken the bait, but enough to where it was nibbling. I motioned for Sherlock to take the rod and he did slowly, trying not to startle the fish.

I watched as it began to bend a little more and I shouted, "Now!"

Sherlock jerked hard to the right and I was amazed when his rod dipped low, the line running out towards the opposite end of the creek. "Reel Sherlock! Don't let it get to the other side where the branches are!"

He began reeling and pulling, struggling at the fight the fish was putting up.

"Is it…always like this?" He panted out, sweat breaking out on his brow.

"Aye, keep going! You've got this!"

After a few more minutes, Sherlock gave one last mighty tug and I watched with delight as a large brown trout flopped out of the water and onto the bank. I rushed forward, grabbing the fish by its mouth, lifting it's wriggling body up in front of me. I pulled the hook out carefully, doing my best not to hook myself.

"Good job love! That's a beautiful fish! It's at least four kilograms, if not more." I offered it to him, watching as he grimaced. "Come on Sherlock, it's all part of fishing. I'd like to get a picture of you with the fish."

"Must I?"

"Yes." I handed him the fish, placing his right hand under its belly, the left thumb hooking into the mouth. "Hold tight and don't let it go. That fish will flop back towards the water."

I snapped a photo quickly, watching as it began to struggle in Sherlock's hands. I laughed as he struggled with it, taking it from him before he dropped it. "Do you want to kill it or should I?"

"Kill it?"

"Aye, this is going to be our lunch and the poor thing is suffocating as we speak."

"How do you kill it?"

"Right. I forgot. Hand me that screwdriver out of the tackle box would you?" He handed it to me wordlessly and I positioned it right where my father had showed me the brain was located all those many years ago. "Would you care to do the honors?"

"I'd rather observe, thank you."

"Your choice." I slammed the palm of my hand down into the screwdriver, barely wincing at the crunching noise it made. I jerked it back and forth, destroying the brain. "You sure you wouldn't like to learn?"

Sherlock's face had paled considerably. "I'm quite certain."

"Suit yourself." I grabbed my knife from my pocket, jabbing it into the fish to bleed it out. I looked up at Sherlock. "Love, turn away."

"W-why?"

"Because you're going to vomit."

Not two seconds after I said it, Sherlock turned to the right and retched. I had to bite back laughter, instead getting up and going to him, rubbing his back. "It's alright love. It's alright. I'm done. You don't have to watch anymore. I'm very sorry. Please forgive."

"It's...alright…." Sherlock gasped out. "I'm not….I'm just…."

"You're not used to this way of life. It's fine. I don't expect you to get it. I thought it might be something fun that we do together. Come on, let's get you back to the house."

I began to pick up our things when he grabbed my wrist. "No. No, I'm fine. Really. You wanted to fish, let's fish."

"Are you sure? We can go back."

"Yes. I'm…sure."

I broke into a wide grin. "Perfect! Let's catch some more fish then!"

We caught two others by noon and the third one Sherlock even helped me kill without getting ill. We carried all the supplies back to the house, putting them in the closet before placing the fish in the sink. I looked at Sherlock.

"Would you like to watch me clean them?"

"Sure. Why not? I've already killed one of them."

Together we cleaned and de-boned the fish. After the first one, Sherlock seemed to have embraced the idea of cleaning them and helped me halfway through the second fish. When we began the third, he decided to try his hand at it by himself. I pressed a kiss to his cheek as he pulled out the spine.

"I knew you'd eventually get the hang of this. I'm quite proud of you."

I snapped a photo of him standing over the kitchen sink, fish in his right hand, knife in his left. He looked at me curiously.

"Why are you taking so many photos?"

"I wanted to create a memory book."

"A memory book? For what purpose?"

"So that when we're both old and grey, we can show our children how we were in our own younger years. I'd like to give them an example of what love should be like. All the little moments that make up the big picture."

"And what big picture would that be?" Sherlock asked, setting the fish and knife down in the bottom of the sink, grabbing me by the hips.

"The picture of a happy marriage that no one but your parents, John and Mary, and ourselves have. You and I have both seen it walk into 221B. How many requests a _day_ do we receive to investigate a husband potentially cheating on his wife? I don't want our children thinking that that is the norm."

Sherlock pressed a kiss to my forehead. "You're right Lila. How are you more brilliant than I am?"

"I'm not. I'm more empathetic than you are. There's a difference. Now, are you going to finish cleaning that fish so that we might have some lunch?"

He finished cleaning the fish and I began to prep the vegetables so that we could steam them. Sherlock looked at me questioningly. "What, not going to fry them? No fish and chips?"

"Not with these fish, no. I'd much rather steam them in the oven than fry them."

I placed the fish in the oven, setting the timer for an hour before retreating to the library. Sherlock's show had come on and I knew that he'd be shouting at the telly in no time about the boy not being the man's son or whatever else they decided to put on. I took a deep breath as I stepped into the room. Nothing had changed since I had last been there. I looked at the puzzle on the table, feeling the tears touch my eyes.

My father and I had been working on it the week that we'd come up there. We'd joked and said that it would still be sitting there by the time I was married and maybe eventually we would complete it. I touched the edge of it, looking at the half-completed lighthouse, the bottle of glue sitting next to it. I tried to hold back the tears, but found that I couldn't. I sank down into the chair at the head of the table and began to weep.

* * *

" _Delilah, where are we going? Dad said to keep close to the house!" Olivia protested as I dragged her through the woods. "We're going to get into trouble and I'm going to tell Mom that it was all your fault."_

" _We're going on an adventure Olivia! Come on, we can't stay at that cottage all the time. Besides, Papa takes me here all the time. I know how to get there."_

" _What happens if we get lost? Or a bear comes and eats us!"_

" _A bear? Really Olivia? Come on." I tugged at her arm, dragging her down the path. "It's just up ahead. You can't miss it."_

 _We arrived in the clearing for the creek and I noticed that there were two people sitting on the edge of the bank, talking and laughing. I approached slowly, watching with delight as Sherlock and my father turned to face us._

" _Oh, hello love. I was having a nice chat with your father about everything that has been going on in our lives." Sherlock smiled, but I watched as his smile fell when his eyes rested on Olivia. "Lila? Why did you bring her here?"_

" _She's good Sherlock! She wants to be our friend!"_

" _Is that why she has a gun pointed at you?" My father asked calmly and I turned to see Olivia standing there, green eyes wild with rage._

" _I will burn the heart out of you," she said, but it wasn't her voice, it was Moriarty's._

 _I shuddered, stumbling backwards. "No…no, this…you're not real. Not real!"_

" _Oh, but we_ are _real Delilah. As real as you are. And you've awoken the monster. Tell me, why won't you just die?"_

 _And now I was laying on the floor of my flat, bleeding out everywhere, black eyes staring down at me, smiling. But instead of Moriarty's voice, it was now Olivia's. "Come on sister, why won't just die? We'll make it painless even. Give up."_

" _No!" I sobbed, but the pain seared through me as the toe of Moriarty's shoe found the open wound and pressed down. "No."_

" _Too late!" Moriarty raised the gun up to point at me. "Good night dearest sister. I don't think you'll be surviving it this time."_

"NO!" I screamed, swinging violently, struggling when my arm was caught and I was slammed down into the table. "NO LET ME GO!"

"Easy Lila. Easy. It was a dream and only a dream. It's me. Sherlock. Easy my darling. You were only dreaming, I promise you. They're not here." I struggled to catch my breath, feeling my chest tighten. "If I let you up, will you swing on me again?"

I shook my head, managing to choke out, "Let me up. Please."

He released his hold on my shoulder and I straightened myself up. Sherlock pressed an inhaler into my hand and I took a deep pull from it. I shook it again, taking another pull. I still felt as though I couldn't breathe, but that was a combination of anxiety as well as asthma. Sherlock quickly guided me to the couch in the living room, sitting me down before kneeling in front of me.

"Delilah, are you alright?"

"Fine. Fine. Just…just a bit of a bad dream. Nothing…nothing to worry about."

"Well, the timer went off for lunch. I'll go and bring you your plate. Then we'll go out into the gardens. Does that sound fair?"

"Aye." I watched as he eyed me suspiciously. "What is it Sherlock?"

"Nothing, I'm just worried for you. You haven't had a nightmare in a while and you did nearly have a full blown asthma attack. I'll be right back."

I sat there patiently and my phone buzzed in my pocket. I opened it, reading the message quickly.

 _ **Hello Del. Wanted to let you know that Scarlet is doing very well with Sheryl. Hasn't left her side since you dropped her off to us yesterday. Hope everything is going well on your honeymoon –MW**_

 _ **Everything is going well. Got Sherlock to go fishing. He did very well. I was quite surprised. –DH**_

 _ **Sherlock fishing? I'll have to tell John that one when he gets home. He'll never believe it. –MW**_

 _ **Well if he doesn't, tell him that I have the pictures to prove it. :) –DH**_

 _ **Haha, I will. Well, you two lovebirds have fun. We'll see you when you get back? –MW**_

 _ **Of course. Give my love to Sheryl and John for me. –DH**_

 _ **I will. And you give my love to Sherlock. And tell him that he needs to take care of you! –MW**_

 _ **I will. Love you Mary –DH**_

 _ **Love you too Del. –MW**_

I pushed the button on the side, locking the phone. When I looked up I saw Sherlock standing in the doorway of the kitchen, watching me. "What?"

"Nothing. Everything alright with Scarlet?"

"How did you-"

"You always smile at your phone when Mary texts you. If it were John, you would have been more worried. You've come to associate John with bad things and Mary with good news. Which is about right if I actually think about it." Sherlock approached me, offering his hand. "Are you coming to eat?"

"Yes. Of course I am." I took his hand and he helped me up. "How did it turn out?"

"Well, it smells delicious. I'm not certain about the taste as I've been waiting for you."

He pulled out the chair for me at the table and I sat down, watching as he sat across from me. I smiled at him. "Well, go on and try it. I want to watch your reaction when you taste fresh fish from the creek."

Sherlock cut a small bit off with the edge of his fork before taking a bite. His face lit up and he took another bite, combining it with some of the broccoli and carrots. I smiled, digging into my own plate, watching as he enjoyed the food.

He leaned back from the table after cleaning his plate, looking surprised at himself. "I never eat like that."

"No, you don't. But we're also not working, so you're not distracted by anything either." I popped a piece of broccoli in my mouth. "Did you enjoy it?"

"I did. Thank you very much my darling."

"Of course. Now, why don't we wash up and then we'll figure out what to do from there?"

We quickly washed the dishes, storing the rest of the fish in the fridge for lunch the next day. Sherlock took my hand, leading me out into the garden. We walked through it and I pointed out all my old hiding places where I would read books or play with my sister or my dolls. As we reached the back of the garden, I gasped.

The pond had been cleaned up and there were flowers blooming everywhere around the water. I saw that more lanterns had been lit and soft music played mysteriously. I looked around, finally spotting some rocks that weren't actually rocks, but instead they were speakers. Sherlock swept me up into his arms, beginning a slow waltz around the garden.

I smiled up at him, moving with him, instinctively knowing where he was going to step and what he was going to do. He dipped me low before pulling me back up, spinning me away from him and then pulling me back in. I laughed, moving with him again.

"Surprised you don't recognize this song."

"Should I?"

"Considering your father sang it to you and you hum it around the flat constantly, yes, you should."

I listened closely, realizing that it was Danny Boy playing on the violin with some minor tweaks to it. I looked up at Sherlock, watching as he smiled. "You've always enjoyed the song. I decided to learn how to play it and record it. I learned every song that you hum on a regular basis actually. They're all on this disc."

"Sherlock…that's…why?"

"Why what?"

"Why are you so good to me? I mean, look at what we came from to where we are now. The cold, unfeeling consulting detective married to one of the most stubborn, obstinate thieves in the United Kingdom. It seems like we're in a dream."

"Isn't that what love is though? A dream that two people share when they wish to be together and they work hard to keep it alive?"

I nodded slowly. "Yes. I suppose you're right. It's just…so much has changed in two years. I feel as if we've been on a rollercoaster the entire time."

"If this is a rollercoaster, then I hope that you're strapped in my dear because I have no intention of getting off, only of going faster."

"You would want to go faster," I said with a laugh and he pressed his forehead against mine. "Sherlock, I'm afraid."

"Afraid of what?"

"Afraid of waking up from this dream. Afraid that my sister will come back and destroy everything. I'm afraid of losing you."

He pressed a gentle kiss to my lips. "Dearest Lila, don't be afraid. We've bested them enough times and should they return, we will best them again. They are nothing. Besides, from what you told me, your sister will be out of commission if she hasn't been killed."

"Oh, she's not dead."

Sherlock stopped moving, staring down at me. "How do you know that?"

I turned pink. "I…well, I follow their blog."

"Ah."

"I was going to stop, but I figured that keeping track of them would be our best bet on staying ahead of them."

"Good thinking."

"You don't approve?"

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at me. "Why would you say that?"

"Your tone tells me everything that I need to know Sherlock. Do you think that it's bad for me?"

"I think that it is toxic for you, yes. I believe that you need to leave the investigating to myself and John. Not because you are incapable of investigating, but because of the personal vendetta you have against them."

"I do not have a person vendetta!"

"Delilah, you have vowed to kill them. They have taken your father and your childhood friend from you, as well as nearly claiming the lives of Max and Madeleine. I don't blame you for wanting them dead. But you have too much emotion invested in this."

"I…" What could I say though? Sherlock had a very valid point. "I suppose you're right. I'm sorry."

"It's alright. Why don't we go back to the cottage? Your show is getting ready to come on."

"Will you watch it with me?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes, but smiled. "If it will make you happy, yes, I will watch it with you."

He took my hand and we wandered up the path towards the cottage, blowing out the candles in the lanterns along the way.

* * *

"Do you want to head into town?"

I looked up from my book, swinging my legs off the arm of the couch. "For what?"

"Well, I could use a breath of fresh air. And you said last night that we'd need more groceries soon as we've still got another week and a half left of our honeymoon."

"You're bored, aren't you?" I asked, sliding my bookmark into the book.

"Perhaps. The cab will be here in about five minutes. I've hired it to take us to The Maigue Restaurant. Have you been?"

I shook my head. "No I haven't. Does this look alright?"

"Is that one of the outfits that I picked out for you?"

"Aye."

"Then yes, you look fine." He pressed a kiss to my cheek, taking my hand. "Come on darling. We don't want to miss the cab."

"I'll go on one condition," I said, adjusting the black leggings and the hem of my dark grey dress.

"Oh? And what might that be?" He asked as I walked towards the front door, slipping into my black boots.

"We play Deductions at lunch."

Sherlock grinned from ear to ear. "Do you really think that you'll beat me?"

"Oh of course I do. I've been practicing." I patted his cheek as I walked out the door. "Come along Sherlock dear. We don't wish to miss the cab now do we?"

The ride up to the restaurant was quiet. In my head I was practicing my deduction skills on the cabby. Sherlock was looking out the window, but I could hear him snickering to himself when he glanced at me. After the third time, I let out a huff of exasperation. "What is so funny?"

"You are darling. Practicing on the cab driver?"

I rolled my eyes. "Not practicing. I'm warming up."

"You warm up as much as you need to darling. Keep in mind that I have been doing this for much longer than you have and I have no intention of losing."

"Why is that? Because I'm the only intelligent person that you can beat seeing as your brother crushes you every time?"

Sherlock's face flushed. "That's…what…"

"Oh look, we're here!" I got out of the cab before Sherlock could, stretching lightly as I waited for him to join me. "Are you coming Sherlock? I'm assuming that you made a reservation. From what I've heard from my family, they won't let anyone in without a reservation."

"Yes, I made the reservation. What did you mean back in the cab?"

"Nothing Sherlock. I was only picking at you."

Sherlock frowned. "If you say so. Come on, let's go and get some food."

We were both seated immediately after Sherlock gave them his name and we ordered the appetizer and the main course right away. It had only taken me a quick glance over of the menu to decide what I wanted. The waiter whisked away our menus and I turned to Sherlock, smiling.

"Are you ready?"

"You want to play before our food arrives?"

"Why not? What's stopping us? Or are you afraid to lose Mr. Holmes?" I smiled at him coyly from across the table, watching as the glint of determination appeared in his eye.

"I'm afraid to hurt your feelings when I beat you at this game."

"We'll see. You choose first."

Sherlock's eyes scanned the room and his smile grew wider. "The old woman coming from the restrooms with her escort."

I turned to watch her, taking her gait, demeanor, and any other detail in that I could until she returned to her seat at the table. I turned back to Sherlock. "Alright. You go first."

"Are you certain?"

"Very."

"Very well. Widow, approximate age 85-90. It is her birthday judging by the amount of people sitting at the table with her. And seeing as most all of them share common features with her, there is no doubt that in my mind that they believe this to be one of the very last times that they will see her. She seems to have had a fall within the past few months, given that she is walking with a pronounced limp. She has her hair regularly done, as well as her nails, so she grew up in a wealthier family when she was born. No doubt her need to keep up her appearances has carried with her her entire life. And on an end note, she will more than likely be dead by the end of this year if not beginning of next judging by the clubbing in her fingers, sure signs of heart disease and failure."

I smiled up at him over the rim of my glass. "Is that all you noticed?"

"Is that…what else was there to notice?"

I fought back the urge to laugh at him, instead turning my focus to the woman in my mind as I watched her walk across the restaurant.

"You are right on all accounts husband. I won't argue with you that it is her birthday and that she grew up in a wealthier family. What I will disagree with however is that she has had a fall within the past few months."

"Why do you say that?" Now Sherlock was turning his attention to the old woman sitting across the room.

"Look at her escort to the bathroom. There is a shade of lipstick on his neck that he managed to miss. If you notice, it is the exact same lipstick that the old woman is wearing. He is one of three at that table who do not look alike. When she rose from the table, all three of them rose to go with her. But why? Why would they all fight over her? Simple. They are all lovers of hers."

Sherlock's eyes went wide. "And how do you figure that?"

"Even from this distance, I can tell that they are all too old to be her children, but too young to be her age. The one sitting next to her is the one she visits most often. Perhaps even her partner after her husband died. He has a bottle of Viagra in his pocket. I saw him check it while he was waiting for her to exit the restroom. Now, if an eighty-five or ninety year old woman had been widowed for as many years as she has been, then she would be unaccustomed to sleeping with someone, especially with someone as hungry as a man on Viagra. Hence why she has a limp. For the most part though, she is completely healthy, minus the heart condition that she's developing. But a few rounds in the sack with her three suitors could potentially correct the problem."

Sherlock was looking at me with three heads. "How on earth did you figure out that the other two were sleeping with her?"

"Simple enough. The man sitting next to the woman shot them both dirty looks when they started up to help her. He suspects that she is with them, but he has no proof. And given the fact that she slipped the one at the end of the table a note and has been flirting with the other sitting across from her, I would say that those are very good indications that she is interested in them on more than just a friendship basis. Wouldn't you agree Sherlock?"

He looked at me in shock. "Where in the world did you learn to do that?"

"You and your brother have taught me many things these past two years Sherlock. Where else would I learn it from?" I took a sip of my water. "Here comes our food. Perfect timing. Do you care for round two after we've finished eating?"

He slowly shook his head. "No…I think I'm alright."

I smiled, watching as they placed my appetizer in front of me. "Thank you so much."

We ate in silence and internally I was cheering myself on for having finally beaten Sherlock. But it seemed to be bothering him and I couldn't help but feel bad that I'd bested him. He'd always prided himself on being the most intelligent person in the room. I took his hand as he finished his main course, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?" He asked, pulling away from me. "You won fair and square, just as you said you would."

"I shouldn't have gone about it in the fashion that I did."

"It's alright. It only means that I'm out of practice. The brain is like a muscle and I haven't been working it as hard as I could. In fact, I've been neglecting it. That only proved it to me. You opened my eyes Delilah. Don't apologize for that."

The rest of the meal carried on in silence and Sherlock paid for the check, scribbling his signature on the receipt before rising from the table. We exited the restaurant and I looked around, waiting for the cab. Sherlock instead took my hand and began to walk down the street with me.

"Care to play another round?"

I gave him a smile. "Sure. If you'd like. Would you like to choose or go first?"

"I'll go first. You choose."

"Alright. The game is on then."

* * *

"That really wasn't bad darling. Your three to my two. I'm impressed." I kicked my shoes off at the door, going straight to the couch to sit down, grabbing my book. "Thank you again for lunch by the way. It was delicious."

"Of course. Delilah, before you get back into your book, can we talk?" The sunlight was streaming through the long window of the living room, turning his black hair a dark brown with its light. He strode over to me, sitting down and taking my hand. "Will you listen to me?"

"Aye. What's wrong? Are you alright?"

"I'm perfectly fine my darling. I only wanted to ask something of you. A rather large favor as this would be a great burden on you."

My brow furrowed together and I frowned. "Sherlock, what's wrong? Are you ill?"

"No, no, it's nothing like that. I wanted to ask you…would you stop taking your birth control pills now that we're married? Neither you nor I are getting any younger and I would like to have children while we're both able to chase them around."

I pressed a hand to my chest, feeling my heart begin to race. "Sh-Sherlock…are you…you can't be serious? You're serious? Oh God, Sherlock we were only just married! Are you certain that you'd like to try for children so soon?"

Sherlock took my face in his hands, resting his forehead on mine, staring me right in my eyes. "Delilah, there has been nothing I have wanted more on this planet than to have children with you. I want to watch our little boys run around in the sunshine after their baby sister. I want to watch them grow and teach them the things that I wish I could have known when I was there age. I want to press my hand against your growing belly and feel them kick against it. But most of all I want to have a little girl with your smile and eyes look up at me the same way that Sheryl looks at John and Mary."

I felt the tears touch my eyes and Sherlock gently wiped them away. "I never knew that you wanted such things. You've never told me that before."

"Well , now I am telling you. I understand if you have hesitations about this and you don't want to. But I thought that I would try my hand at asking you and see where you stand on the issue. If you don't wish to then-"

Before he could say another word, I was throwing myself in his arms, pinning him to the couch, pressing kisses to his lips and face. He finally pushed me off with a chuckle. "I'll take that as a yes then?"

"Aye, that you should take as a yes. Come on Sherlock, why don't we go and start trying to create our family?"

I took his hand and led him upstairs to the bedroom.

* * *

It was three days since I'd stopped taking my birth control and Sherlock and I were still very much enjoying our honeymoon. He and I had both joked the day before that if we didn't have moral obligations in London, we would probably stay in Adare the rest of our days away from people. Sherlock had become more and more relaxed as he'd stayed out in the country. We'd even gone fishing again and he seemed to find some enjoyment in it.

I sat under the shade of the willow tree by the pond. I'd realized that Sherlock had had a bench created in memory of my father and placed it under the tree so I would have a peaceful place to read. I was halfway through my book when I heard Sherlock shouting for me from the house. My heart leapt to my throat and I immediately thought of Olivia and Moriarty having discovered where we were staying on our honeymoon.

I reached for the pistol on my hip, drawing it from its holster and approaching the house cautiously. The back door was open and from inside I could hear Sherlock talking. I couldn't make out what the other person was saying. I padded through the house, gun raised, searching for Sherlock. I finally found him in the library.

"Yes. Yes we'll be there as soon as…I know…calm yourself, I promise you we will-"

"Sherlock, what's going on? Who are you talking to? Is everything alright?"

"John, I'm going to put you on speaker phone. You tell Delilah everything that you just told me."

Sherlock set the phone down on the table and I felt my stomach drop to my toes. I looked at Sherlock, seeing the grim look in his eyes. I took a deep breath before asking, "John, can you hear me?"

"Yes, I can hear you. Del…you…you and Sherlock need to come back. Moriarty and Olivia…they…they…"

"They took Mary," Sherlock told me softly as John broke off into sobs. "Sometime today while John was at work they broke into the house and took Mary. John just came home to find Sheryl screaming and a note from them."

I could hear Sheryl screaming in the background and my heart gave a twinge of sympathy. "John, listen to me. I want you to put the phone up to Sheryl's ear."

"What for?"

"Right now she needs a woman's touch and while I can't be there, I can at least try to sooth her." The screaming grew louder and I knew that John was doing as I'd asked. "Little Sheryl, can you hear me? It's Auntie Del. Hush little one. Hush."

The screaming was softening to cries and I smiled. "It's alright Sheryl. It's okay. We're right here. We'll be coming home soon. I just need you to be a good girl for your aunt and mummy until we get back, alright? It's okay baby, hush now. Hush."

She'd quieted down and John came back on the line. "How on earth did you do that?"

"Dunno. We're catching the next flight out of here and we'll see you as soon as we land in London. Go to 221B with the note, Sheryl, and Scarlett. Tell Mrs. Hudson what has happened. Call Irene and Molly, they'll help you as well." I looked up at Sherlock, seeing if he disapproved of anything I was saying. "If anything changes, call us immediately. We'll see you shortly."

Sherlock hung up the phone and I was running out of the library and up the stairs, throwing our clothes haphazardly into the bag. I could hear Sherlock speaking to his brother downstairs as I packed. I was running through dozens of scenarios in my head of what could possibly go wrong and what could have happened. I slung my bag and Sherlock's over my shoulder, opening my phone as I went down the stairs. I hit the button for Olivia's blog, knowing that I was about to dive back down into the rabbit hole.

She had been posting a lot recently, more than she had in quite a few months. I scrolled through them, barely noticing that Sherlock had taken the bag off my shoulder and was guiding me out to the cab that was waiting. I was nearly three pages in when we arrived at the airport. Sherlock gently took my phone form me, looking at me with concern in his eyes.

"Delilah, are you alright?"

"What? Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just-"

"I know you're going through her blog. I can tell because you get a look of fury in your eyes as you read. Have you found anything yet?"

"Nothing yet. I think that they knew I wasn't looking at it because they grew very bold about posting their plans. They even said that they were thinking about taking Mary out for lunch one day soon. Meaning that they had planned to take her in broad daylight, knowing that if John were home, he would try his hardest to stop them and may even succeed." We walked across the tarmac towards the plane that was waiting for us. "Your brother arranged everything?"

"Yes. He has men at Baker Street to watch over John and the others until we get back."

"Do you know what the note says Sherlock? Please tell me that it has nothing to do with us."

"It always has something to do with us Delilah, you know that."

"What did it say?"

"We'll discuss it when we get there."

I grabbed his wrist, staring up at him, not allowing my gaze to waver. "Sherlock, you tell me what that note said or so help me God I will torture it out of you on this flight back."

I could tell that he was at war with himself about whether he should tell me or not. "Let's get on the plane and then I'll tell you what it said, alright? I don't want to keep the pilot waiting and we need to make it back before nightfall."

I nodded, following Sherlock up the stairs. I took the seat across from him, folding my hands in my lap. He sat down, tucking his bag underneath the seat. I kept mine closely next to me, not wanting it to get far in case I needed to access something in it. I stared at Sherlock and he sighed.

"You can't even wait until take-off for me to tell you?"

"No Sherlock. I need to know now. I don't like it when you keep secrets from me. Now tell me what that note said. What could Moriarty and Olivia have said that would bother you so much?"

"They said that only you are allowed to search for Mary. If anyone else does they will kill her."

I grew quiet, staring out the window as we began to head out onto the runway. My mind began to race. "You're worried that I'll get Mary killed aren't you?"

"No. I'm worried that revenge will cloud your judgement and _you'll_ end up getting killed. Mary I could care less about." I raised an eyebrow at Sherlock. "What?"

"That is your best friend's wife we're talking about, as well as the mother to our goddaughter."

"Yes and you are _my_ wife and the future mother of my children. Forgive me if I am more concerned with your well-being than someone else's. If the situation were reverse, I would expect John to care more about his wife than he does mine."

I sighed. "Just don't let John hear you say that please. I have no doubt that he'd probably beat you within an inch of your life."

Sherlock nodded. "Yes, of course. I forget about you all and your feelings from time to time. It's…different to have to take that into consideration. We should be arriving in London in approximately two hours. This will give us enough time to discuss potential plans as to how we're going to rescue Mary."

"We? But they specifically said-"

"I know what they said. But we can plan before we arrive. Yes, you must look for her, but certainly there is some clue as to where they could be. You've been scanning their blog all day. Does it not give you a single hint as to where they're keeping her?"

"Unfortunately no. I have a feeling that either they're waiting for us to return to London or the hint is in the note, which is in John's possession." I sighed, leaning forward, going through my mind. "Let's see. If it were the middle of the day, she would have been fully dressed. What day was yesterday?"

"Tuesday."

"Tuesday. That means that Mary would have taken little Sheryl down to the clinic to see her father after their morning walk. She would have been carrying her gun on her no doubt. If this was after the walk but before John got home, then it would have been when Sheryl was down for her nap."

"Meaning that more than likely when Mary heard someone talking to the baby, she would have gone to investigate," Sherlock murmured. "So they knew her schedule."

"They've probably been watching her for weeks now, learning her every move and habit. With us out of town, they don't have to worry about my popping by for a surprise visit. This was the perfect time for them to move." I frowned. "But why wouldn't Mary shoot them on site?"

"For the same reason that you wouldn't have."

"Which would be what?"

"Think about it. Why would you not have pulled the trigger?"

A look of realization dawned on my face. "Of course! They had threatened Sheryl. Mary wouldn't have been able to pull the trigger. And I bet I know the bitch that would hold a baby at gunpoint."

Sherlock shook his head. "They wouldn't threaten the baby with a gun. They're not that messy."

"What would they have threatened her with then?"

Sherlock pulled his phone from his pocket, punching in what was no doubt John's number. Sherlock placed it on the table between us. It rang once, twice, and half of a third before John answered.

"Sherlock, you had either be having an epiphany or be landing in London to be calling me."

"John, I need you to check Sheryl's neck."

"What? Why?" The man sounded confused and panicked and I could hear him scrambling down the stairs of the flat. "What do you think happened? You don't think that they injected her with some disease, do you?"

"No," I reassured John, glaring at Sherlock across the table. "We don't think that at all. I think that they may have told Mary that that was what was in it. If she's not showing any symptoms I doubt that they had a disease in there."

I could feel the man on the other end of the line relax. "If you're positive Del then that's good enough for me. What side do you think it would have been on?"

"Right," Sherlock and I said simultaneously.

"Alright, let's see. Easy baby. Be easy. Let Daddy look. That's a good girl. That's…" John grew very quiet on his end of the phone and I felt my heart sink in my chest. "Oh God."

"John, is there a puncture mark?"

"Yes. Yes there is. What-?"

"Take her to Molly at St. Bart's. Tell her to run a complete blood and drug screening on Sheryl. Take the note with you, leave Scarlett with Mrs. Hudson. We'll be landing in about an hour. We'll meet you there," I said quickly, doing my best to keep my voice calm so that John wouldn't panic.

"Right. Come on Sheryl, let's go and see your Auntie Molly."

John hung up the phone and I looked up at Sherlock worriedly. "You don't think that they-?"

"Injected her with diseases? I highly doubt it. I think they did inject her with a sedative though. Think about it, a baby in a traumatic incident like that, but it doesn't start screaming until right before her father gets home? They dosed her so the neighbors wouldn't be alerted that there was a problem." Sherlock frowned. "These bastards are good, I'll give them that. But you and I…we're better. We will get them."

"I know we will. I only hope that we can get them before they kill one of us."


	12. Chapter 12: New Beginnings

***Hello lovelies! It looks like that's another chapter down. Now, how on earth could we top a chapter such as this? I'm sure I can think of a few things. Let me know what you all think in the comments and I will see you all in the next chapter!***

* * *

 **Chapter 12: New Beginnings**

"John? John, is she alright?"

"She's fine," John said dully, not looking up at me as he bounced Sheryl up and down. "It was a sedative that they gave her. No diseases or anything like that."

"Well that's good. Sheryl's alright then." I looked up at Molly. "Any ideas?"

"None. And no one can help. It even says on the envelope that it's for your eyes only."

I frowned, glancing over at Sherlock as he looked over Sheryl's bloodwork. "I can't even open it around any of you?"

"Probably not. I wouldn't risk it. Come John, let's get back to Baker Street. It will be much safer for you both there." Sherlock tugged at his friend's arm. "John?"

"I'll stay here. You two go. Would you mind giving me a gun so that I might protect myself?"

I shuddered when John's glazed eyes met mine. I took Sheryl from him, handing her to Sherlock. "Molly, Sherlock. Would you mind giving John and I a moment?" Sherlock stared at me incredulously. "This isn't something that you can deduce Sherlock. Go and wait outside."

Molly gently grabbed Sherlock's arm, leading him outside of the morgue. I watched John standing there, eyes far away, not reacting in any manner as the two other adults left the room with his child. I began to approach him when he held up a hand.

"I know what you're trying to do Delilah. I know that you are concerned about my well-being. But let's both face it, you aren't going to be able to solve this without Sherlock's help and my wife is going to die. Why would I choose to stay here if that's going to be the case? I mean, we're in the morgue already anyway!"

I could hear the hysterical bite to John's voice and I knew that I had to tread carefully. "John, listen to me. You're in shock and you're blaming yourself for something that no one could prevent. I promise you that I will get your wife back to you in one piece."

"No you won't. The only one that can is Sherlock and you're not _him!"_ John snapped, slamming his fist down into the table. "No matter how much he trains you and teaches you, you'll never be him. You're not good enough for this Delilah!"

I winced at John's words, but met his wild gaze all the same. "John, would you truly leave your child an orphan? Mary wouldn't want that. Mary would at least want her child's father in her life. Who would take Sheryl? Sherlock and I? No, she needs her good and noble soldier father who will teach her right from wrong and tell her all about her mother and what a beautiful and intelligent woman she was."

I took another two steps towards John. "You can't let the darkness win John. If you do then they win. And good cannot lose to evil. Please John. Snap out of it long enough so that we can focus on the case instead of worrying about whether you're going to kill yourself or not. Please. Sherlock and I love you. Sheryl loves you. And Mary loves you. She's not dead, only captured. I swear on the last breath in my body, I will get your wife back."

John's gaze met mine and I could see a flicker of life come back. "That's it John. That's it. Come back to me, please. For Sheryl and Mary."

I watched as the tears began to flow. I reached out for him and he closed the gap, throwing himself into my arms. I held him tight, doing my best to sooth him. He sobbed, burying his face into my shoulder.

"It's all my f-fault. I should have been there to protect them. Mary s-said that morning that she was worried that she was being f-f-followed, but I told her that she was worried for nothing, th-that we…we were safe. Oh God if she dies…if she dies it's my f-fault!"

"She's not going to die. I made you a promise John and I intend to keep it. I will bring your wife back to you. It's alright. I promise you, it's alright. We will get her back. We will. Come on, let's go and meet Sherlock out at the cab, get you back to Baker Street."

I managed to help John stumble out of the morgue and out onto the street where I found Sherlock sitting in a cab, bouncing Sheryl on his lap. I opened the door, easing John inside before sliding in. It was a bit cramped in the back, but the ride didn't take long. I was the first one out of the cab and helping John. He was still shaking and crying, but he seemed to have a bit of his composure back.

Sherlock carried Sheryl up the stairs and I walked behind John, keeping an eye on him to make sure he didn't try to do anything rash. We entered the flat and I held out my hand to John. He stared at it, confused.

"Hand me the note John."

From inside the pocket of his jacket, he pulled out an envelope, my name scrawled across the front in handwriting that I didn't recognize. Underneath of my name it said, _'For Delilah's eyes only! :)'_

I sneered at the smiley face before opening the envelope. I glanced inside, frowning.

"What? What is it? What's in there?"

"It's…it's letters."

"It's what?" John asked, voice soft.

"Let me see," Sherlock snapped, trying to snatch the envelope from my hands while holding the baby.

As he went to reach for it, all our phones went off at one time. I reached for my phone, keeping the envelope out of Sherlock's reach. I unlocked it quickly, typing in the pass code. I gasped at the image on the screen, nearly dropping the phone and the envelopes contents onto the floor. John let out a moan of pain, sinking to his knees.

"What? What is it? What's wrong?"

I showed Sherlock the picture, watching as he frowned deeply. "Good God."

It was a photo of Mary, bound and gagged, tears in her eyes, staring up at the camera pleadingly. My sister was kneeling next to her, a wide grin on her face, eyes excited, giving a thumb's up. Underneath the photo read a caption that said, _'No cheating Delilah dear. You have until midnight tonight to solve our puzzle. And if you don't, then I guess that little Sheryl will be without a mother.'_

John began to sob once again and I took the baby from Sherlock. "Get him down to Mrs. Hudson and stay down there until I call you. I'll keep Sheryl up here with me."

"But what if that's what they want and they come up here for you."

"Then they'd better expect to find out what a bullet tastes like. If it comes down to them or myself and Sheryl, it will be them. I'm done playing games. This ends now."

Sherlock nodded. "Be careful love."

"I will. You watch after John for me please. Don't let him go anywhere by himself."

"I know Lila. He's suicidal. I'm a sociopath, not completely ignorant."

I smiled gently, touching Sherlock's cheek. "I know darling. I have to remind you. Go and get him downstairs and do your best to comfort him. Or at least have Mrs. Hudson do it."

Sherlock took John downstairs despite his protests and I closed the door to the flat. I pulled out Sheryl's small play mat that Sherlock and I had bought her, placing her on that to play before I scattered all of the ripped bits of magazine out from the envelope. I quickly began to pick out the words, putting them all in one section, leaving the letters in another pile.

The words that they'd given me were Mary, midnight, and new beginning. Everything else was just chopped up letters and I grit my teeth, knowing that I didn't have much time seeing as it was already six thirty in the evening. I counted out the letters quickly, noting that there were twenty-one in total. The letters read _H-MA-R-O-I-N-N-U-M-UM-U-SE-D-G-AR-S-N-E._ I stared down at them, running through all possible word choices that were available to me. I began to pace.

"New beginning? What could that possibly mean? If it's one of their thought processes, it could mean a million and one things." I ran a hand through my short hair, looking down at Sheryl cooing at her toys, reaching up to pull them down towards her and chew on them. "We'll have to figure it out won't we Sherly? Can't have you lose your mother and I can't always rely on Sherlock. So think!"

I began to rearrange the letters into different orders, but nothing I could come up with was suitable or made any sense whatsoever. Before I knew it, two hours had gone by. I began to feel sick to my stomach, the weight of the situation pressing down on me. I looked at Sheryl who had fallen asleep on her play mat. I sat down, staring at the sleeping babe, trying to get my brain to work. I closed my eyes, going to my library.

"The answer has to be here somewhere," I muttered to myself, staring at the random letters on the table. "Think. Every single time that they've given you something to work through, the answer has been staring right in front of you. That's where Olivia has always failed. Letting things get too personal. So, this must be personal. But a new beginning? What could she be talking about?"

I went to the shelves, looking at the books that had been filling it up slowly but steadily. I pulled down anything that had to do with a new beginning. My birth, my first day of school, my first flat, first job. All signified a new chapter of my life. But I had a feeling that they wanted something more recent. I began to pull down the first day that I met Sherlock, our first kiss, moving in together. I laid them all out on the table and began to flip through them one by one.

I knew it had nothing to do with our childhood, so I tossed those books over my shoulder. I flipped through the moments of getting my first flat and job and neither of those things had anything that stuck out to me. I was growing frustrated. The deadline was approaching much too soon. Maybe John was right. Maybe this was something Sherlock needed to handle.

' _Enough of that talk!'_ The voice in my head shouted. _'The answer is right in front of you. You said so yourself. Now think you idiot or else that little girl is going to lose her mother!'_

My eyes scanned the room and that was when they fell on the book at the other end of the table, pristine white with gold filigree on the edges. It was still open as I was working on storing the memories from our wedding and honeymoon in there. I ran to the other side of the table, throwing it into the middle of it, watching as pictures from mine and Sherlock's wedding appeared.

I flew threw them, looking for one specific picture. I froze when I saw it, staring at it. I reached down, throwing the letters towards the picture, watching as they all fluttered into place, perfectly matching the word I was looking for.

"Horniman Museum Gardens," I muttered, my eyes opening to find the room still the same, the only thing changed the time on the clock. "I've got to prepare and I can't let them follow me."

I got up from the floor, looking at Sheryl. "I'm going to go and get your mother little one. Even if it kills me."

I sat in the cab quietly, running through every scenario in my head. I pulled my phone out of my pocket when I knew I was far enough away from Sherlock that he wouldn't be able to follow me in time.

 _ **Molly and Irene, please watch after Sherlock should something happen to me. I'm going to go and rescue Mary. After you receive this message, please call Sherlock and John and tell them Sheryl is asleep alone upstairs. Tell them that I will be fine and that Mary will be safe. I have no intentions of losing tonight. –DH**_

 _ **Delilah, you can't be serious! –MH**_

 _ **Delilah, Molly's right, you can't be serious about this. You can't go alone. –IA**_

 _ **Delilah? –IA**_

 _ **Delilah, answer us. Please don't do this. We're a team. We can take them down before Mary gets hurt. Come on. –IA**_

 _ **Lila I hope that what Molly and Irene have told me isn't true. If it is, I ask that you return to the flat. There is no sense in you going gallivanting on your own. Come home. –SH**_

I shut my phone off, knowing that if I could figure out the clue, so could Sherlock. I didn't need him immediately following me and ruining everything. We pulled up in front of the museum and I paid the driver quickly, thanking him for his expediency. He shrugged, driving off down the street.

It was deathly quiet and there was a chill in the air. I shivered, pulling my jumper a bit tighter around me. I walked slowly towards the front entrance and then thought better of it. While I knew that the alarm system wouldn't be rigged, they had more than likely planted a trap. I walked around to the side of the building, searching for an open window or door. I finally found a window that was unlocked and I hoisted myself up, landing catlike on the other side before creeping forward.

I padded down the hallways, doing my best to disguise the sound of my footsteps. I looked everywhere, trying to find any sign of Moriarty or Olivia. I rounded the corner towards the walrus and that's when I saw Mary sitting there in the moonlight by herself, struggling against her bonds. I moved quickly, keeping to the shadows.

I barely had time to react to the butt of the pistol whipping out from around the corner of another exhibit. I dodged right, but it grazed the side of my face and slammed down into my shoulder. I rolled away, turning to block a second blow, recognizing immediately that it was Olivia who was attacking me.

I blocked another blow, going for a chop to her throat. She blocked me in return, shoving me back and creating distance between us. She lashed out with a kick, but I ducked, grabbing behind her knee cap and twisting to the side. She twisted her body with me, catching me off guard and wrenching her leg free. Olivia struck out again and this time I couldn't block in time. She caught me with a solid left hook to my jaw. I staggered backwards, trying to regain my balance.

' _Limping on the right side and she is refusing to use that arm. You damaged her leg with your wrench and you more than likely shot her in the right shoulder. Use those to your advantage!'_

I nodded, ducking to the left as she swung again. I drove the palm of my hand into her shoulder, relishing in her cry of pain. She tried to step away, but I'd placed my leg behind hers and pulled forward, sweeping her off her feet. Catching her bad arm once more, I drove my knee into her spine, using her arm as leverage to drive her to her knees. She scrambled to get her footing, but it wasn't going to happen. I forced her to her stomach, using my knee to keep her hand pinned to the small of her back. I pulled the gun from the waistband of my jeans, pressing it to the back of her head.

I panted for air, glaring at the back of her head as she struggled underneath of me, giving whimpers of pain. My heart sank down to my toes when I heard the slow clap begin from next to Mary. I looked up and my dark brown eyes met the crazed one's of Jim Moriarty. The distinct sound of a pistol being cocked echoed through the empty museum and I looked to see Mary panicking, head pulled back, the barrel of a gun placed under her chin.

"It seems that we are at an impasse my dearest sister," Moriarty said softly. "Whatever shall we do about this?"

"You release Mary and I'll release your wife," I growled. "We trade and walk our separate ways. I've beaten you this time."

"Oh have you now? By what? Figuring out where we were keeping Mary before midnight? Disarming my wife and getting her on the ground?"

"Jim, please," Olivia sobbed.

"Shut _UP!"_ Moriarty roared. "Can't you see I'm trying to do business with Mrs. Holmes?"

"Sorry darling," my sister whimpered. "I'm so sorry."

"Better. Now, where were we Mrs. Holmes? Oh right, captive exchange."

"Yes," I said through gritted teeth. "You cut Mary loose, release her to me, and I'll let Olivia go to you. We both walk out of here with what's important to us and we call it a day. Kill each other some other time."

"Why would I release your half of the bargain first Mrs. Holmes? How do I know that you'll fulfill your end?" Moriarty drove the gun deeper into Mary's neck and she let out a squeal of fear.

"Because, if you've been studying my husband and I as close as I think you have been, you will know that I never go back on my word." I drove my knee a little bit harder into Olivia's back, causing her to cry out. "What will it be James? A trade or a stalemate?"

Moriarty yawned dramatically before pulling the gun away from Mary. "Fine. Have it your way. I'll release your whatever-she-is and you release my wife."

My eyes never left Moriarty as he cut Mary free. My heart began to race and I watched as Mary sprinted towards me, skidding behind one of the displays. She motioned for me to join her but I shook my head, knowing that I had to complete my side of the bargain. I slowly stood up, easing pressure off Olivia's back and arm. I yanked her to her feet, shoving her towards Moriarty.

She stumbled into his arms and I watched as he struck her across the face. I grit my teeth, knowing that I could do nothing as this was the life that my sister had chosen. I continued to stare at him. "So we go our separate ways now?"

"Olivia, darling, are you alright?" The madman crooned to my sister, pressing a kiss to her cheek where he'd struck her before kissing her lips. "What can I do to make you feel better?"

"Moriarty, we have a deal. We are going our separate ways and-"

"Kill her dear," I heard Olivia murmur and before I could move, the shot rang out.

The world slowed down around me as I watched the muzzle flash. I was knocked backwards, the bullet hitting me square in the chest. My gun fell to the floor, going skidding across the tile, clattering noisily against the wood panel of a skull exhibit. I hit the ground hard, staring up at the ceiling dazed. I struggled to catch my breath, gasping for air. Mary's face appeared in my view and I tried to shove her away, tried to get her to go back behind her cover.

She began to check me over, frantically searching for a wound so that she could apply pressure. I could vaguely hear Moriarty and my sister laughing in the background.

"Where are you shot? Oh God Del, where are you shot? Tell me!" I watched as the tears began to flow from her eyes. "Del, please don't die. Please!"

I grabbed her hand and she leaned down close to me. I managed to choke out in a harsh whisper, "Vest. Pretend."

Her eyes went wide, but she immediately understood my meaning. She pressed down hard on the left side of my chest, trying to make it look as if she were stopping bleeding. "Delilah, don't die on me. Please, stay with me. Come on Del, stay with me."

"Oh look, what a _touching_ reunion! The detective and the doctor here just in time to see the women that they love die!"

"Mary, oh my God," I heard John murmur. "Get away from Delilah, there's nothing you can do to save her."

"I can't John! She's our friend!" Mary fake sobbed. "I'm not leaving her!"

"Olivia, dear, go and bring the car around front so that we can leave. I'll keep the gun." When she didn't move he struck her again. "I said go you foolish woman."

My sister left the room quickly and I was left to stare up at the ceiling, forcing myself to keep my breathing irregular as though I were struggling for breath.

"How sweet that you two would show up like moronic knights in shining armor trying to save their damsels in distress. Too bad for you that they will both die." Moriarty began to walk forward and I could see through the corner of my eye that he was coming on the left side. "Mary, be a dear and go stand over there while I finish things with Delilah. I'd like to put the poor thing out of her misery if you don't mind."

Mary didn't move and continued sobbing as Moriarty approached. He kicked her square in the ribcage, knocking her sideways and causing her to gasp for air next to me. "Should have listened to me darling. It saves you some trouble in the end. Now. Where were we?"

"You were going to tell us how you survived a bullet to your brain," Sherlock said icily. "I mean, that's part of what you want to brag about, correct? How you shot yourself in the head and made everyone in London, including myself, believe that you were dead?"

I looked up at Moriarty to see him grinning from ear to ear. He glanced down at me. "Do you think we should tell him Delilah dear? Are you comfortable on the floor drowning in your own fluids?" I pretended to try and choke out an answer. "Was that a yes? Well then, I wouldn't want to keep the world's most _famous_ consulting detective in the dark."

"You see Sherlock, you aren't the only one who has a wife that is a fantastic shot. My Olivia is as good a marksman- markswoman?- marksperson as anyone I've ever seen. And love can make you do very funny things. It's amazing what a small package of corn starch, water, and red and black food coloring can do, don't you think?"

"You're saying that you put a packet on the back of your head?"

"More like a packet on the back of my neck, but who's nitpicking?" Moriarty's grin grew wider as he continued to stare at Sherlock. "You see, I told Olivia to take the shot and not miss. The phone was set up on a timer so that when I put the gun in my mouth, it would go off as Olivia took the shot. You've only seen a handful of people killed in front of you Sherlock, so I wouldn't expect you in your state of shock to recognize that I hadn't truly killed myself. Went unblinking and held my breath for about a half a minute, maybe more until you turned your back and then it was smooth sailing from there."

"I'm impressed," Sherlock said. "But I'll be more impressed how you survive this time."

"Oh, I intend on living through this encounter and continuing my hunt for you. Delilah is only the beginning of the pain that I will deliver to you Sherlock." He placed the heel of his foot in the center of my chest, pressing down. "Now, watch as I-"

Before Moriarty could complete his sentence, I was reaching up, grabbing his foot in my hands and wrenching as hard as I could to the left. I heard a sickening crunch and Moriarty let out a scream of agony. He tried to bring the gun up to fire, but I was already there, catching his arm and forcing him to release the gun. I caught it in my hands, kicking him backwards.

He looked up at me, eyes wide with surprise and pain. He managed a small smile before saying, "You wouldn't kill me, would you sister dear?"

I smiled back at him, resting my finger on the trigger. "Why don't you just die?"

I squeezed it over and over, watching as he flew backwards. The world slowed down once again and I watched as every single bullet hit their mark in a vital part of his body. I saved one bullet in the chamber of the revolver, approaching Moriarty's prone form. He looked up at me, grinning wildly from ear to ear, teeth red with his blood.

"Kill…me…" he choked out.

"My pleasure."

A shrill scream came from my left and Olivia came flying out of nowhere, slamming into me. We both tumbled to the floor, the gun going off, not hitting its mark the way I'd wanted it to. Her fists pummeled into me and I did my best to block her. Her knees dug into my chest, making it difficult for me to breathe. She clawed at my eyes, shrieking with rage as she tried to blind me. I drove my knee up into whatever I could connect with, but it did nothing.

I watched as she went flying, John having tackled into her to knock her off of me. Mary and John were restraining her and I shot to my feet, sprinting headlong towards her to attack her. But someone caught me around the waist and I felt the familiar embrace of Sherlock. I pounded my fists into his chest, trying to force him to let me go.

"Let me at her! God damn it let me go Sherlock! I have to destroy them. I…I have…have to…" I began to shake and tremble all over and I was crumpling in Sherlock's arms. "What have I done? Sherlock, what have I done? What have I done?"

I heard the wail of sirens from far off and soon the windows were filled with the flashing blue lights of police units. Sherlock let me go once I'd calmed down a bit and I'd gone straight to Mary, giving her a large hug.

"Are you alright?" I asked her, holding her face in my hands. "Mary, are you okay?"

"Besides nearly being killed and getting abducted? Perfectly fine. Normal day in the Holmes-Watson households, right?" She pulled me in for a hug, holding me tight. "How are you not dead?"

"Remember when we went and rescued Scotland Yard? We got bullet proof vests?" Mary's eyes lit up with knowing. "I may not have returned mine knowing that it could potentially help us."

Mary and I both laughed through our tears and we helped each other out of the museum towards the ambulances as Sherlock, John, and Lestrade wrestled with Olivia. I helped Mary into the back of the ambulance first. She and the paramedics tried to convince me to get in the back with them, but I told them that I was fine. Mary raised an eyebrow, but decided not to question it.

"Do you think I could have a couple of alcohol swabs to clean the blood from my face?"

The paramedic handed me a packet of them and I began to clean my face slowly, wincing at the pain in my jaw and cheekbone. I knew I was going to look like a mess, but it was worth it at the end of the day. I watched as four officers, John, and Sherlock all dragged Olivia out of the museum kicking and screaming. When our eyes locked across the parking lot, she began to fight doubly hard, shrieking that she would get her revenge against me and take everything that I ever loved from me.

I shook my head, rolling my eyes. "You can try it dearest sister, but you're going to have a hard time escaping prison, especially with your husband dead."

Next came the body bag containing Moriarty's body. I stopped the two paramedics wheeling it out. "Are you certain that he's dead?"

"Yes miss. There's no way that he'd survive so many shots to the chest. Whoever killed him was a hell of a shot. I've never seen such a tight grouping. He definitely suffered before he was killed."

"Good," I muttered under my breath."

"What was that miss?"

"I said good work gentlemen. Have a good night."

"You too." The man pushing the head of the stretcher looked at me curiously. "You might want to get that head wound looked at miss. It's swelling up something fierce."

"I will. Thank you."

But I had no intention of getting it looked at by a complete stranger. I would wait until John was available to look at it. Right then I wanted to get home and get a hot bath. I hated having the stench of blood and fear on my skin. I began to walk home, looking up at the sky as it began to rain. I didn't mind it though. I felt like it was washing away the troubles, pain, and guilt that I'd carried with me the past few years.

I began to cry, letting the rain hide my tears. I couldn't help but feel so torn. On the one hand I'd killed a man, but on the other hand, he'd needed to be put down and rendered unable to wreak havoc on my family. I watched out of the corner of my eye as a cab pulled up beside me.

"Do you really think that I'm going to let you walk home in a downpour?" Sherlock asked, leaning out of the window. "Get in darling."

"Leave me be Sherlock. I want to be alone with my thoughts."

"That's not going to happen Lila. I'll be quiet and allow you to think on the ride to Baker Street, but you are not walking all the way back there being as wounded as you are."

I sighed. "Fine. But you have to promise to be quiet."

"Of course." He opened the door before scooting over to give me room. "Now get in because I'm not asking you again."

I slid in next to him, resting my aching head against the glass of the cab. I watched as London slipped by us, a blur of cars, people, and lights. Sherlock took my hand, but didn't say a single word as I'd requested of him. As we drew closer to 221B, I began to tremble and shake. Was it truly over? Were Sherlock and I finally free to live our lives without fear of being killed or having our loved ones violently snatched away from us?

I staggered out of the cab, Sherlock following close behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. I somehow stumbled towards the door, pushing against it to get it open. My vision was blurring, my breath hitching in my chest. Vaguely I could hear Sheryl cooing from Mrs. Hudson's flat. Sherlock helped me up the stairs and he opened the door for me to our flat. I took about two steps in before my legs gave out and I turned into a sobbing mess.

Sherlock fell to the floor with me, pulling me close against him, rocking me in his arms. I gripped the front of his coat tight, burying my face into his shoulder, sobbing violently. Strings of spit and snot intertwined with one another, dripping to the carpet as I let out a silent scream, unable to even get enough air to make a sound. I gasped and then the sound came. It was a low keening wail and I tried to stifle it, but found that no matter what I did, I couldn't quiet it down.

Sherlock never wavered and never let me go. Instead he let me wail, holding me tight against him. My sobs slowed down into hitching breaths and even those quieted down. I curled up in Sherlock's arms in the middle of our living room, my arms wrapped around his waist, terrified to let go of him, convinced that if I did I would completely fall apart and collapse into a million pieces.

The door downstairs open and I heard Mary and John talking to Mrs. Hudson downstairs. Sherlock helped me to my feet and put me on the couch before going to poke his head out the door.

"John, could you come up here for a moment please? I'm in need of a doctor's assistance."

He mumbled something to Mary, who mumbled something in return. I heard John's feet coming up the steps and he walked in, a look of seriousness on his face. "What's the matter? What's…oh Jesus Del. Why didn't you go to the hospital?"

"I think it looks worse than it actually is. How's Mary?"

"Fine. Bruised ribs. She'll be getting x-rays in the morning at the clinic. You on the other hand need to go to the hospital."

I shook my head slowly. "No. No hospitals. I don't want a bunch of strangers poking and prodding me right now. I'm barely holding it together as is."

"Alright. Well, would you like Sherlock to be in here while I examine you or-?"

"No, I don't want him in here. You and me doctor. That's it."

John looked at Sherlock. "I guess that means you should go downstairs and see Sheryl and Mary."

"Lila, are you sure?"

"I'm absolutely positive."

Sherlock nodded, walking out of the door to our flat. "Alright then. If you're positive, I'll be downstairs until you two are finished."

With that, he closed the door behind him and I let out a shaky breath, falling back onto the couch. "I didn't want him to see exactly how hurt I am."

"And exactly how hurt are you?"

I slowly stripped out of my jumper, revealing the bullet proof vest underneath. I winced at the pain in my chest as I went to undo it, letting it fall to the floor to reveal the blossoming bruises I had underneath. John hissed as he stared at the one in the center of my chest.

"Can you breathe alright?"

"It hurts," I admitted as he grabbed his spare stethoscope from the drawer. "I can't say that getting shot in the chest is a pleasant experience, even with the vest on."

He pressed the stethoscope to my chest. "Breathe deep for me Del."

I did as he asked, wincing as my ribcage expanded. I let out the air in a hiss, trying to breathe through the pain. He had me repeat this process three more times before he took the stethoscope off, seemingly satisfied with the results.

"Any other pain anywhere?"

"My head, my cheekbone, and my jaw."

John reached up to all of them, gently pressing them. He frowned when I flinched away from his hand as he brushed his fingers against my cheekbone. "That hurts?"

"Aye, a bit."

"On a scale of one to ten?"

"Between a four and a five," I replied, doing my best to try not to wince. "How bad is it do you think?"

"Well, let me run a couple more tests and I'll be able to tell you. Stand up for me please." I did as he asked. "Now stand on one foot with your other out in front of you."

I stood on one foot, but struggled to keep my balance. I staggered to the right and John caught me around the waist. "Can you tell me what day it is Del?"

"Erm…I think it's Monday?"

John frowned. "Go ahead and sit down. And put your jumper on."

I did as he asked, hissing again at the pain in my chest. "So, what's the diagnosis doctor?"

"Mild concussion, bruised sternum, broken cheek bone, and multiple other small cuts and bruises. It could have been worse though."

"Yes, it could have." I stared out the window at the rain pouring down outside. "John, do you think it's over? That we can all have normal lives like we're supposed to?"

John chuckled. "Do you really think that there's such a thing as a normal life being around Sherlock?"

I gave him a very small grin. "You're right. There's no such thing as normal when Sherlock's around."

"Listen…Del…thank you."

"For what?"

"For preventing me from doing something stupid earlier. I know…I know that what I said was very angry and horrible and…I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be so cruel. You have to understand that…that I…." He looked down at the floor and I could tell that he was fighting tears.

"It's alright John. Mary is your life and that's the mother of your daughter. I don't hold anything you said in a moment of grief against you. I'm glad that you didn't manage to get your hands on a gun. I have no doubt that you would have pulled the trigger and ended it without seeing Mary survive."

"You know…you're as brilliant as Sherlock, if not more so."

I raised an eyebrow. "Why do you say that John? Sherlock is ten times smarter than I am."

"Book smart, yes. He can learn anything at a glance. But you, you know _people_. You know how they act, how they function, and what they need at any given moment. You're more common sense and street smart. That is ten times more powerful than any super computer brain." John sat down next to me on the couch. "You and Sherlock balance one another. I only hope that he sees how lucky he is to have you."

I nodded slowly. "Thank you John. You and Mary need to get home."

"Will you be alright?"

"Aye, I'll be fine. I was going to take one of my sleeping pills before bed, but if you say that I have a concussion, I think it would be a good idea for me to go to sleep naturally. Do you want to tell Sherlock your official diagnosis or should I?"

"I think I should tell him as I know the proper treatments for the ailments. Not much we can do for a broken cheek bone and bruised sternum, but the concussion he can at least check on you every couple of hours, make sure that your brain doesn't bleed and you don't slip into a coma." John stood up from the couch, looking down at me. "I'll bring you some pain medication tomorrow on my lunch break."

I nodded. "That would be fantastic. I'm still running on adrenaline I think, so I'm pretty sure that the pain will get worse as the night goes on."

I got up from the couch, grabbing John's arm as he walked towards the door. "John?"

"Yes Del?"

"I'm glad I could keep my promise to you."

John smiled, pulling me in for a hug, squeezing me gently. "I'm glad you could too. And I'm glad that it didn't come down to you losing your life. I love you Del, as does Mary. We're both eternally grateful to you for risking your life like that."

John let go, opening the door and going downstairs. I hobbled my way down the hallway towards the bathroom. I gingerly managed to strip out of my jumper and bra. I was halfway through wiggling out of my jeans when I heard the bathroom door open and closed. I glanced over my shoulder at Sherlock.

"You know, it's impolite to stare at a woman when she's undressing."

"Let me see."

I sighed, leaning over into the tub to turn the water on. "I'm fine Sherlock."

"A cracked sternum is not _fine._ Let me see it Lila. I won't ask you again."

"It's only bruised Sherlock. Stop being so dramatic," I said as I turned to him, kicking out of my jeans. He stared at the bruise in the center of my chest, the frown deepening the longer he stared at it. "You're lucky it wasn't a higher caliber bullet."

"I looked up my old case file on my way over to the museum. I realized that they were more than likely still using thirty-eight caliber bullets and that the vest should save me."

"And if you'd been wrong?"

"Then we'd be having a completely different discussion now, wouldn't we? What does it matter? I'll heal like I normally do and then we'll be able to get back to solving cases."

"Lila…you scare me sometimes."

I raised an eyebrow at him before stepping into the shower. "I scare you? The man who has no feelings? The man who refuses to admit that anything bothers him?"

"Yes. You scare me because you are always so quick to sacrifice yourself and one of these days it's going to be the end of you. I don't want to see that happen. What if that bullet had been a higher caliber? Or the vest had failed?"

"Well, neither of those things happened, did they?"

"No, but what if they had?"

I peeked around the shower curtain, frowning at the worry in Sherlock's gaze. "If they had then we would have dealt with it then. Trust me, those bastards weren't going to kill me tonight. I was going to make sure of it. Please stop worrying."

Sherlock sighed. "You're so stubborn sometimes and it's frustrating."

"You are as well. I'd say we're about even on that front."

I heard the door to the bathroom open. "I'm going to let Scarlett out."

"Alright. I'll be finished in the shower shortly and then I'll be heading to bed."

"I'll see you there. You know that she doesn't like to go in the rain."

I rinsed my hair quickly before scrubbing in the conditioner. I grabbed the loofah hanging from the spigot of the tub and squirted some of my body wash onto it. I watched as the blood and dirt swirled down the drain. I couldn't help but think about the look on Moriarty's face as I'd approached him with the gun. How he'd looked so…happy that his life was ending. What if he'd known that he was insane and needed to be put down? Some part of me hoped that he had been intelligent enough to recognize how much of a danger he was to those around him. But knowing how selfish he could be, how deranged his behavior had been, I couldn't believe there was a single sane bone in that man's body.

I finished cleaning myself and stepped out of the shower, drying off quickly. I walked out of the bathroom, hanging up my towel on the corner of the door. I crawled into bed and laid there, listening for Sherlock to come back into the flat. I heard Scarlett's nails scraping on the steps as she ran up them and there were Sherlock's quiet footsteps. The light in the living room and kitchen cut off and I could hear him heading down the hallway towards our room.

I closed my eyes, pretending to be asleep as he snapped at Scarlett to go to her bed. I knew he was stripping out of his clothes and I let out a hiss as his cold skin touched my warm skin. He pressed a kiss behind my ear, draping his arm over my waist.

"You're lucky that I love you."

"Am I now?"

"Aye. If you were any other person, I would have pushed you out of the bed at this point."

He chuckled. "You would? How cruel of you. What did I ever do to you?"

I slowly rolled over, wincing at the pain in my chest. "You climbed into bed and pressed your cold, naked body against my warm one."

"Oh, is that a crime now?"

"It is to me." I pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. "Sherlock, I love you."

"I love you too Lila."

I rolled back over away from him, feeling his body instinctively curl around mine. I stared at the wall across from me, chewing on my bottom lip.

"Something's bothering you."

"Yes, something is bothering me."

"What is it?"

I hesitated, unsure of how I should proceed. Sherlock tightened his grip around my waist. "It has to do with you killing Moriarty, doesn't it?"

I nodded. "I thought it would be more fulfilling, killing him, using his own stupid line against him. But seeing the devastation on my sister's face, the absolute agony in her eyes…I don't think I could do it again if I had to. I know that she was brainwashed by him and that perhaps there's no chance for her to be rehabilitated, but she's still my baby sister. I'm supposed to care for her no matter what and I feel like I didn't. I only made her more miserable."

"Well, you won't ever have to see that devastation again love. Moriarty is dead. I made sure of it myself when they loaded him into the body bag."

"Yes. Yes, I suppose he is." I grew quiet, listening as Sherlock's breathing slowed and steadied. He pulled me closer to him and I curled up against him.

' _I'm not concerned with what happens to Moriarty now. They can let his body rot. I care more about what happens to my sister and whether she'll be able to recover from her insanity or not.'_

With that thought, I closed my eyes, settling into disturbing dreams of Olivia's crazed green eyes blazing as she slammed into me and Moriarty's cold black ones begging for me to kill him.


End file.
